The Forgotten Princess
by Converse r life
Summary: We all know the story of the glass slipper. And we all know the people who made it into what it is. But there is one character that is so seldom mentioned that they are nearly forgotten in everyone's mind. This is how Cinderella impacted her story.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

We all know the story of Cinderella. And we all know the famous characters that helped shaped the story into what it is. A beautiful young maiden that held onto her dreams when all seemed loss, and managed to marry the prince at the end. Yes, for all reasons of practicality, you could say that you know the story inside-out. Or do you?

There is one character that is so seldom mentioned that they are nearly forgotten in everyone's mind. This character had no secret love affairs with the prince, or had any harsh words towards Cinderella. Not at all. This character stood in the shadows as Cinderella's fairy tale unraveled completely.

Now, you could say that since this character had nothing to do with Cinderella's story, that it doesn't really make a difference. You would be right if you think this…on a certain level, that is. While this character may not have impacted Cinderella's story in any obvious way, it is the fact that Cinderella impacted _her_ story in the most obvious way possible.

But to understand this character's story, one must travel back into the past, quite a few years back, and see it all start from the beginning...

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><p>Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away, there lived a happy royal family. You had the king, Eadberht, his queen, Cassandra, and their lively six year old son, Charmond. They had the perfect life. With servants to attend to them at all hours of the day and night, a kingdom that loved them, and a strong family dynamic, all seemed to be wonderful.<p>

Or, at least, things were wonderful until the queen found out that she was with child.

The news shocked the court and kingdom, but none were more surprised than the king and queen. They had thought that Char would remain their only child, because after years of trying, they had finally given up on the idea of a playmate for their son. Well, it was a little too much to handle all in one swallow. It took a few weeks of slowly warming up to the idea of another child until the monarchs realized that they were really, truly happy.

The pregnancy progressed nicely for the queen, better than her earlier one had been in fact. There was nothing to be concerned about, absolutely nothing…so no one was. The servants busily prepared for the new arrival, the king fell in love with the unborn child, the queen was perfectly content in her pregnancy, and the young, just-turned-seven-year-old prince happily dreamed away his days of what he and the baby would do together in the near future. Things just couldn't have been any better.

And then came the day of the birth. The labor pains had come too quickly, too painfully, in the middle of the night. By the time the doctor had been summoned, and the midwife had been awoken, the baby was halfway out. Blood poured out of the woman at an alarming rate, and though every method was tried, it was in vain. Nothing could be done to save their beloved queen. All they could do was stand by and watch.

The queen wasn't an idiot. She could feel her life slipping away from her. She knew that so much blood loss was not normal when having a child. But she also knew that if she did not hurry, her child would be taken with her. So giving one last, final big push, the queen felt her child rush out of her, and she felt herself become pale and lightheaded. She'd be dead before dawn broke.

King Eadberht had been pacing outside of the master chamber, worriedly wondering what all the commotion inside was about, and if that meant something was wrong. He could not admit to himself what he feared might be true. When the doors to his bed chamber opened all he saw were somber faces and the only thing he heard were the soft painful words that his beloved wife was on the brink of death; he should go in and say his goodbye's now.

The heartbroken king tried to keep himself from falling apart in front of his now dying wife, he really did. He had never imagined a life without her…and now, suddenly, the imaginative idea was starting to become a reality. A horrid reality at that. Hot tears filled his vision; he lasted all of two minutes before he started to cry like a young, hurt child.

Queen Cassandra took in every part of her newborn child, savoring every moment she had with the healthy, tiny thing. This child would never know what it felt like to be showered with so much affection that it seemed to be too much. This child would never know how it felt to be rocked to sleep by a gentle voice reading aloud a story. This child would grow up without a mother. This child…would grow up without _her_.

Eadberht cried, Cassandra felt her heart break, and the newborn child who had been the cause of all of this, slept as though nothing in the world was happening. Feeling a sudden pain in her abdomen, Cassandra's eyes went wide and she thrust the babe out towards its father; she had to speak now before all was lost.

With a strained, painful, and quiet voice the woman begged her king two things. One, to raise their son into the kind of man all would admire. That was the easy wish; Eadberht agreed to it immediately. Two though…two was harder to speak aloud. But blood was starting to stain the sheets again, and the queen knew that she had no time to think this through. Two, she begged with wet eyes, always love their newborn child. _Always_.

Eadberht did not answer right away; he wasn't sure he could. The babe in his arms stirred and let out a feeble whimper to let all know that it was hungry. Cassandra gave a pained laugh, reaching out a hand to stroke her child's face…and then went limp. She was gone.

Eadberht blinked. He'd thought that death would be a final thing for him, death would somehow make all this make sense. But it didn't. It made everything he'd been feeling erupt tenfold inside of him. He felt her hand; it was starting to lose its warmth. His sobs came only moments later.

When, almost an hour later, his sobs had diminished, he finally looked down at the child in his arms. The newborn embodied its mother in every way that he could think of…and every way that made him feel as though a thousand knives were stabbing him all at once. It wasn't fair. Holding the child closer to him for a moment, he breathed inwards, calming his system, before gently lowering the pitiful thing into a make-shift bassinet at the end of their…no, _his_ bed. He vowed that it would be the last time he would hold the tiny girl again.

Time went on, as it has a tendency to do, and the baby was finally named by a governess; Gwendolyn. The king managed to keep his vow, and never held the girl in his warm arms. For all accounts, he ignored her and instead showered his son with everlasting attention. Charmond was only a young child when his sister was born, but the loss he felt when his mother left him was only replaced by the attention given to him by his father. He ignored his sister as well, believing that it was only the right thing to do.

Gwendolyn became a quiet, withdrawn child. She spoke only when spoken too, and never once did something that anyone could think of her as a nuisance. Most of her governesses lasted less or just about a year, always leaving fed up with such a black-sheep of the family, and of the all the experiments-gone-wrong caused by the girl. She was hardly ever allowed to attend a social event, and if on the off chance the king was in a wonderful mood and let her go, all she was to anyone was wallpaper.

But, in her mind, and in her small journal, she was strong. The girl, shockingly to those who were fortunate enough to see it, had a personality that defied all the odds against her.

Her name was often forgotten, her title simply overlooked, and her face just one more in a castle full of souls. Her father showed absolutely no feelings for her, her brother sometimes had to be reminded that she still existed, and most people did not seem to even notice her presence. Gwendolyn knew by the time she turned six that she was to be a forgotten princess. Forever.

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><p>And now, with the introduction done, I do believe we can start this story.<p>

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**Hi guys! This is my first Cinderella fanfic, and I have been neglecting my other stories for months now because this story was driving me nuts and I needed to write it all out. So, here it is. I hope you like it! Oh, and please review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2: Inky Feelings

There were hundreds, most likely even thousands of families eating dinner one evening. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and the like were either together or separated that day, eating and recanting stories of what had happened to them. Had you stumbled upon this particular family, you wouldn't have thought that there were any differences between them and the others.

There was the father, sitting at the head of the table with a joyful laugh that erupted from his stomach. There was the faithful son who sat on the left of his father, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and a half smile upon his lips as he spun a tale. There was even the son's beautiful wife, who smiled a wonderful smile as she heard her husband speak. All and all, you wouldn't think that this was so special. This was just another family eating another dinner. Ah, but do a full 180 degree turn and you'd find something quite odd.

A girl, no more than fifteen years, sat to the right of the king. Her carrot-red hair fell in soft waves down her back and her hazel eyes looked almost enchanting. Her pink lips were pursed out slightly in deep thought, before her hand swiftly moved across the page of a small journal. She was writing something, you'd realize upon second thought. Her frame was taken over by a dark green, too-tight dress that seemed to be bursting at the seams. Her body was near the end of a transition; her baby body was almost completely gone, being replaced by more womanly features and soft curves.

She was as silent as a church mouse, not even bothering to touch the plate of food set in front of her, but preferring to create minimal noise by scratching her pen against paper. She never once looked up to see what the conversation was about, nor did her lips ever twitch into a smile. You'd conclude that she was a pretty very easily, but the question would haunt you as to why she was not speaking.

This was the very same question that haunted Cinderella.

After two months of living with her fairytale-prince of a husband, the woman could not be considered unhappy in the slightest. At first, it'd been a bit difficult for her, and she'd clung to her old life as hard as she could, even preferring to wear her servant's clothes instead of the new dresses that'd been made for her. She was flourishing happily in the role of a princess in her new life. Everyone had been just so kind, so polite, so nice…well, that is, almost everyone.

The younger princess, Gwendolyn, had hardly uttered three words to Cinderella since her arrival.

At first the woman had thought that the teen was just a bit unhappy that her brother had wed, but after two months of silent treatment, that seemed so unlikely. So then she had thought that the girl may be jealous of all the attention the blonde had been receiving…but now that most of the attention had died down, that didn't seem to be the case either. Perhaps she felt miffed that Cinderella hadn't personally spoken to her before the wedding? No, that wasn't the problem either.

Truth be told (and Cinderella felt horribly guilty for this) the woman hadn't even _remembered_ that the prince had a younger sister, that there was more to this family than just father and son. Even after she had come back from her honeymoon and suddenly had to be planning a banquet, she hadn't remembered that Gwendolyn existed. It wasn't until _after_ the king and prince had come back, and everything had been settled that she'd gotten her first glimpse of the girl.

But still…it's not like the teen had even _tried_ to see Cinderella during those hectic days. And neither Char nor the king had mentioned anything about the girl…

"How are your studies coming along?" Eadberht's suddenly too-serious voice asked aloud.

The teen whom he was asking this question too looked up from her small journal, her face blanker than a new sheet of paper. Cinderella held back a sigh. The king asked Gwendolyn this question every day, and every day the girl replied back with the same answer.

"Well." Gwendolyn answered in a quiet, careful, practiced voice. Her father never asked her more than this one question a day, and in return, she never beguiled him with the accounts of her day.

Sometimes, the girl wondered what would happen if she suddenly jumped onto the table, and started to scream about 'how her studies were coming along'. Her lips twitched at just the thought of it.

"Good." Eadberht responded, not hesitating in the slightest to end this conversation with the girl. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that treating his only daughter like this was unfair.

After all, she hadn't even been able to form a word when Cassandra had died. Cassandra…just thinking about his beautiful, long-dead wife made his heart ache. His fist tightened ever so slightly as he tried not to even let his eyes water.

Char, who'd grown used to this charade over the years, looked over at his new wife and rolled in eyes in an annoyed fashion. But Cinderella was far too troubled by thoughts of the girl to even look back at him. She could see the way that the minute the king had finished speaking with the girl that she'd turned her attention back to the small journal she'd been writing in.

Somewhere in the background, the woman heard her husband and her father-in-law start talking about something or other, but she didn't really catch what it was about. Maybe…maybe if she talked to the girl in front of her father she'd _have_ to talk back to her, the blonde mused.

With her mind made up suddenly, she cleared her throat towards the girl. The child didn't even seem to notice. Clearing her throat a second time, Cinderella noticed the girl's hand tighten around her pen. She could hear her, and she was ignoring her, the woman realized. Well, she wasn't going to be ignored any longer!

"Gwendolyn, dear." Cinderella said in what must have been the nicest voice of life. Placing her hand gently on the girl's arm, she tried as hard as she could to initiate eye contact with the teen. But Gwendolyn wasn't having any of that.

Ripping her arm away from Cinderella as fast as she could, the girl didn't even have time to react as she accidently knocked over the small inkpot onto her dress.

Though she uttered not a single word as the ink seeped inside the fabric of the dress, the girl managed to look…quite grateful. Though she hid it underneath a mask of indifference only a moment later, the split second that she let herself fall and show true emotion was enough to put Cinderella on edge.

"Oh dear!" The blonde woman uttered out, her eyes growing wide as she saw the ink spill all over the girl, the girl let gratefulness fill her features, and then see as the child faded behind an uncaring look.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" The woman said with a gasp, attracting the attention of her husband and the king. Both of them shared a confused look upon seeing that Cinderella (and themselves) were completely fine…but then their eyes traveled to Gwendolyn, who was already closing her slightly-stained journal, while putting away her inkpot and pen.

"Your majesty," Gwendolyn started quietly, bowing her head so that the man who claimed he fathered her didn't think that she was happy that she could leave this purgatory early. "May I be excused from dinner?" With a small nod towards the girl, Eadberht released her from the table, to go do something with that dress. Or herself, for that matter.

Not wasting any time, Gwendolyn hurried out of the dining room, while Cinderella looked horrified. Your _majesty_? This was the girl's father for Pete's sake! Not even Char called him by such names!

This girl was quiet, withdrawn, she seemed to be more of a ghost around the castle than anything. But that split second when her mask had fallen, she'd had true gratefulness that she'd be able to leave early, and the relationship with her family seemed to be almost non-existent…it all made the woman start to think...

Oh, this was a tricky plan, and the king certainly wouldn't like it. But she had to do something about this fractured family life; she couldn't just stand by and watch it continue limping on! By now, the idea had manifested itself in the blonde maiden's mind, and she knew that it was probably going to be near impossible. Then again, they'd said marrying the prince would be impossible, and look where she was now.

Yes, Cinderella promised herself, she would find out what was wrong between Gwendolyn and her family. And she would fix it.


	3. Chapter 3: That Girl

Only two short months ago, bedtime had been the point of the day when Cinderella would ungracefully flop into her small, straw bed and exhaustedly fall asleep. Sometimes, she'd been too worn down to even change out of her working clothes and into her nightgown.

Different parts of her body would flair up with various aches at night, and she could only bear it to a certain point. If she'd been washing the windows that day, her arms would be on fire. If she'd been scrubbing floors, her back and chapped, bleeding hands would make her cry out in pain. If she hadn't had a chance to sit all day, her feet would hardly be able to stand the weight of her body the next day. But now bedtime was completely different.

Humming to herself lightly, Cinderella threaded a ribbon through her newly-finished blonde braid, a smile on her lips as she wiggled happily in her soft nightgown. Before coming to the palace (and having an entire wardrobe made because all she had were two servant dresses) she couldn't even remember ever owning such a soft fabric, much less wearing it.

"If my father would have told me three months ago that I'd willingly allow a bouquet of flowers in my room, I'd have thought he was insane. So then how, pray tell, did you manage to convince me to put _those_ flowers in here?" Char's voice was light, teasing, and immediately Cinderella gave a tinkling laugh that sounded like bells.

"I think they look pretty; the flowers give your room a more homely look." The woman answered with a smile, gesturing towards the vase full of freshly cut flowers on a nearby table. In the mirror, she could see Char come up next to her and playfully tug at one of her braids before nuzzling his face into her neck.

At first her new husband had teased her about her bedtime-braids, but Cinderella still insisted on doing it (it was hard to break a habit that she'd done since childhood) so by now most of his jokes had dried up.

"Mhm. If you say so, princess." Charmond murmured, leaving a trail of kisses from his wife's neck to her collarbone. The ends of the blonde maiden's lips curled upwards in a seductive smile.

She'd been given her own room in the castle, of course, because custom dictated that she and the prince should be more like secret lovers, instead of husband and wife. But…well, Cinderella had shaken up most of the customs in the castle, so why not stretch her luck and constantly stay in her husband's room? Besides, she did find his little nickname for her, 'princess', utterly adorable…

Wait. _Princess_. That one word suddenly made the woman remember what she wanted to speak to her husband about. Pulling away from his affections—with no small amount of easiness mind you—she gathered herself up and looked at her perplexed husband with a question running through her mind.

"Does your sister hate me? I mean…did I do something wrong to her?" Okay, so maybe that wasn't exactly the question Cinderella had been planning to ask, but she blurted it out anyway. It was foolish to assume that something was wrong with Gwendolyn and her family when perhaps it was the maiden's new presence in the girl's life that had caused this.

"My sister?" Char questioned in confusion, before looking back at his wife's worried expression. "Ooh, right, _her_." There was a subtle edge to Char's words, Cinderella noticed, but didn't comment. Perhaps she was imagining it.

"Don't take anything she does to heart, Cinderella. It's just her personality; she's very antisocial." Char shrugged momentarily as though he was shrugging off the entire subject, but his wife wouldn't be persuaded so easily.

"An antisocial _princess_? Is that even _possible_?" Cinderella mused quietly, mostly to herself though. "Well, does she have any friends at least?" From the blank expression she got from her husband at that, Cinderella had a feeling her question wasn't going to be answered in the way that she wanted it to be.

"I wouldn't know. I hardly ever speak with her." Char shrugged again, but there was a hard look in his eyes that immediately put his wife on edge. So she wasn't imagining it. There was something that her husband did not like about his sister; something he wasn't telling her.

"But you're her older brother." The woman pointed out, trying to press for more details now. "Don't the two of you at least exchange pleasantries in the morning? Or at least say hello after lunch?"

"Not really." Char answered uneasily, not liking these questions one bit. His little sister had never been a big aspect of his life, and that fact was proven time and time again when he managed to forget that she even existed.

"During the day she's in her lessons while I'm helping father, so there's really never much talking going on between us then. And she also always eats breakfast and lunch by herself, so it's hard to speak to one another." His words were truthful, and indifferent, but they did manage to sting just a little. After all, his entire life he'd grown up around people that supported him and only ever left him alone when he requested it. His sister, however, had led the opposite lifestyle.

"All by herself?" Cinderella gasped, her blue eyes growing wide. This was something she hadn't known. She'd thought…well, she'd never really given much thought to where Gwendolyn ate her breakfast and lunch, but still. "How long has this been going _on_?"

"Since as far back as I can remember." Char said, rubbing the back of his neck in slight embarrassment. He could understand someone like Cinderella thinking that it was strange that Gwendolyn ate by herself…but that was something that had been going on since _forever_.

"That's terrible! Someone should tell the king that he just can't alienate his daughter like that! The poor girl!" Now Cinderella was really feeling a strong compassion for Gwendolyn. After all, hadn't she been alienated by her step-family for years? She knew how it felt, and she hated it.

"Who says that it's all Father's fault?" Char grumbled under his breath, slightly annoyed, but not willing to cause a fight with his new wife.

"Look Cinderella, I don't know what you're trying to do, but I'm telling you right now that you'd better cut it out. Some things not even _you_ can change, so why bother rocking the boat while uselessly trying? Just forget all about that girl; she's a mess anyway." Char shrugged once again, this time with a firm look that the conversation was over.

Cinderella, for her part, blinked a few times. Her mouth went dry, and her hand angrily turned into a fist. She wouldn't hurt anyone, she was sure of it, but she was just so _mad_. Char's words had stirred up an old memory in her mind, a very old one, from when she was at a tender, young age.

She could suddenly recall her stepmother telling her father to forget 'all about that girl'. And though years had passed since she was a girl and had overheard that conversation, the same thoughts as that day rang through her mind.

When had she become '_that girl_'?

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><p><strong>REVIEW! :)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4: Who, What, Where?

Waking up early the next morning, Cinderella knew what her mission of the day was; find out as much as she could about Gwendolyn. Unfortunately, she had a laundry list of princess-duties to attend to all day, and she knew that she wouldn't have one moment to do some sleuthing during the regular day. That's where two key factors come in; Cinderella rising as early as the servants (sometimes, _earlier_), and having mice for friends.

"Try to find out as much as you can about her." The Princess explained, her voice floating from behind the dressing screen in her own chamber.

The dress she'd chosen for today was one of the more simpler one's she was in possession of…well, about as close to simple as her royal wardrobe would ever get, that is. White bubble sleeves (that were at the height of fashion at the moment, or so she was told) connected to more white fabric that covered most of her chest area. Then a lavender bodice with an intricate pattern done in white string slowly made way towards an overskirt of light blue, and then an underskirt of lavender. Yes, for a princess, _that_ was simple.

"I mean, she must do _something_ other than go to her lessons during the day. It's not as if she can lock herself in her room and never come out." Cinderella mused, stepping out from behind the dressing screen and adjusting her dress slightly. Going over to her vanity, she ran a brush through her hair for a moment, before grabbing a ribbon and pulling it upwards into a ponytail. She couldn't _stand _her hair in her face. "Do you guys think you can do this for me?"

"Jaq-Jaq and Gus-Gus do anything for Cinderelly! We find out about princess, and tell Cinderelly _all _about." Jaq said immediately, standing at attention and saluting towards Cinderella. The girl only smiled in appreciation towards her little mouse friend; it was good to have him on her side.

"Uh, yup-yup! _All_ about!" Gus saluted as well, a bit messier than his friend, but doing it all the same. While Gus wasn't the smartest of the mice, him and Jaq were certainly the bravest, and both of them had helped Cinderella more than once before; now she needed them again. At least this time though, their mission was a little less complicated.

"Good! Thank you!" The maiden cried out, over her shoulder because she was already halfway out of her room. Her mouse friends wouldn't disappoint her in their sleuthing, she knew. Now she just had to do some sleuthing of her own.

First, the older princess decided to speak with every servant that she crossed paths with, trying to figure out what _they_ knew about Gwendolyn. But their responses were…less than satisfying.

"_Gwendolyn? Gwendolyn who?" _

"_Is that the name of the new maid?" _

"_Do you mean Lady Guinevere of Portai?" _

Upon realizing that most of the servants hadn't a clue who she was talking about, Cinderella switched gears. She decided to talk with _only_ the servants who'd been here in the palace for awhile. But these results weren't wonderful either.

"_I don't know much about the girl, sorry." _

"_Who are we talking about again?" _

"_You mean, the forgotten princess, don't you?" _

'The Forgotten Princess', as Cinderella learned, was a nickname dubbed onto Gwendolyn (without the royal family's knowledge, of course). The name bothered the woman to no degree, but she pushed those feelings aside and kept sleuthing. But even Prudence, who was the head of the household, who knew absolutely _everything_ about _everyone_, who could rattle off the list of people that came in and out of the palace daily, had little to say about Gwendolyn.

"_She's doesn't speak a word to anyone, attend any events, or even _try_ to do anything more than write in that blasted journal of hers!" _

In all, Cinderella's morning sleuthing created more questions than it did answers for the maiden. By the time she'd finished speaking to nearly everyone, she was downright exhausted and just wanted to crawl back into bed. Unluckily for her though, the day had to go on, and she had a list of things to do. So, with a sigh, the woman lifted up her skirts and headed off towards breakfast.

Though the day progressed slowly, Cinderella did manage to do some more detective work when no one was paying attention to her for a minute or two. She noticed that while there were dozens upon dozens of portraits of Char growing up, there was only a handful of Gwendolyn. The most modern portrait the woman could find of the younger princess was painted eight years prior, with the girl still in pigtails, and missing her two front teeth. It was as though no one had cared enough to document the girl growing up.

Then, as if there could be something worse than that, Cinderella realized that the large royal family portrait hanging in the throne room (painted about a year ago) did not include Gwendolyn whatsoever. It was as though she wasn't even part of this family, or the kingdom.

Jaq and Gus, meanwhile, had been having just as much trouble trying to find out what they could about Gwendolyn. Hardly anyone even mentioned her in gossip, so they were going on what little information they'd acquired about the girl since living here to find her room. Which was next to nothing. All they knew for sure was that she had a room somewhere in the north wing…which coincidentally, the quickest way to get to there involved going through Pom-Pom.

"Shh!" Jaq turned around to give his comrade a firm look that told him to be quiet. After all, no one wanted to end up kitty chow, now did they?

"Uh huh, shh!" Gus made the motion with his own finger across his lips, hissing out the silencing word mostly to himself. Pushing himself out of the little hole in the wall, he tiptoed after Jaq, avoiding at all costs Pom-Pom's bushy tail. The cat was too busy drinking from her bowl to noticing anything odd going on behind her back, which worked to the mice advantage.

Gus had been focusing so hard on Pom-Pom's tail that he didn't realize Jaq suddenly stop in front of him. Crashing into the mouse, the momentum of the heavier mouse's hurried tiptoeing suddenly made Jaq start to lose his balance.

"Whoa, whoa!" The mouse yelped out as he spread his tiny arms out from his body to sort of stabilize his balance. Unfortunately, this worked a little too well. The mouse managed, in his fear not to fall over Pom-Pom's tail, push with his spread out arms a bottle of milk that had been left next to Pom-Pom's bowl. And that bottle just so happened to tip in the direction of Pom-Pom…and leave the cat soaking wet.

Yelping in surprise, the cat turned around quickly, and let out an angry 'meow' as she shook out the milk that now drenched her. She spotted the mice within a moment, and had them cornered seconds later, both of them cowering in fear of being eaten. Gus was hiding behind Jaq, shaking like a leaf, and Jaq had his arms spread out still, his small heart beating like a drum in his chest.

"Hehe…nice kitty…_good_ kitty…don't eat mice-mice….hehe…run!" Jaq suddenly pulled Gus with him as Pom-Pom jumped at them both, but ended up miscalculating where the mice were and hitting the wall. _Hard._ Falling back, the cat could almost see stars dancing around her head…before she knocked out completely.

For Gus and Jaq, it was still a race against Pom-Pom though. After all, who knew when the cat would wake up? No, they had to hurry. Running into a tiny hole cut into the wall, both mice made their way through the different obstacles before them, adrenaline still pumping within their veins.

"Eh, Jaq-Jaq…! Uh…slow…uh….down!" Gus wheezed, entirely unused to running this quick to catch up with Jaq. And the maze of navigating through the ups and downs of the inside of the column wasn't helping either.

Jaq, who'd already reached the final destination, pushed open the decorative fixture that doubled as a door to block the hole the mice had created. His small eyes caught sight of something suddenly, something that seemed unusual in a nearly empty hallway.

_Movement_.

Focusing his eyes, it took the mouse a good minute or two to figure out that this wasn't just some maid; this was the younger princess that he was looking at. And she was headed in the opposite direction.

"Hurry Gus-Gus! It's the—it's the princess!" It took Jaq only a second to grab his chubby friend and haul him with all his might up to where he was. Gus looked as though he wouldn't mind falling fast asleep, or at least, resting for a second, but this was not to be.

The moment he fell on his rear was the moment that Jaq sprinted towards Gwendolyn, who was almost out of sight. Gus gave a despairing sigh, made a noise that sounded like he was dying, and then sucked up whatever little strength he had left and sprinted after Jaq.

The two mice had to work fast to keep up with Gwendolyn. The girl was walking quickly towards wherever she was going, and didn't even notice the two mice trying to catch up to her.

She took a series of twists and turns into different corridors, and just when both mice thought they were done for, the girl suddenly stopped at a door. The door was quickly opened, and in a flash the girl disappeared within it.

Both Jaq and Gus, tired beyond belief, slipped beneath the door, about ready to collapse…when they look a good look at the room before them. Both their jaws dropped to the floor.


	5. Chapter 5: A Partial Breakaway

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

Three, even, short knocks. That's all Cinderella did. And yet, the sound echoed in the long hallway like a ghost haunting an old house. Peering down the corridor, the woman shivered slightly to herself in slight fear as she realized that there was absolutely no one else in this hallway. It was utterly abandoned.

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

Cinderella tried once more at knocking, hoping that Jaq and Gus hadn't led her astray. They had said that this was Gwendolyn's room…hadn't they? Goodness, now she'd started doubting herself. It was just that…to see an entire wing of the castle so empty gave her the creeps.

The south wing was where the servants' rooms lay, along with the kitchen, dining rooms, etc. The east wing hosted the library, meeting rooms, sitting rooms, royal family bedrooms, etc. The west wing had the ballroom, the guest rooms, and a few other minimal things. The north wing didn't have really anything within it; it was utilized more as a storage place. And plus, another disadvantage, this wing was up three different flights of stairs, which was not something a normal person would like to climb on any given day. So did Cinderella now doubt herself that Gwendolyn's room was here, of all places? Yes, now she was. And did she also doubt that this had been a good idea? Yes, positively so.

She'd made up her mind to see Gwendolyn tonight, no matter what. But…the girl had seemed even less than willing to speak during dinner. At the time, it hadn't seemed to be such a horrible thing…but now? Well, now it was a bit disarming.

After all, she hardly knew Gwendolyn, besides from the little information she'd acquired about the girl through her husband and mice friends. She thought about turning around, heading back to Char's chamber, curling up and sleeping by her husband…but the thought of fixing this fractured family weighed more in her mind. More determined at the moment, Cinderella knocked again.

_Knock. Knock. Kno—_

One of the doors swung open suddenly, causing the young woman to jump back in slight surprise. Staring at her with annoyed hazel eyes, but an otherwise blank expression, was a teenager. For some inexplicable reason, Cinderella found her heart beating faster and her palms starting to get sweaty; she was nervous. There was something about Gwendolyn's expression that did not put her at ease in the slightest.

After too long a silence, Gwendolyn held back a sigh and resisted the urge to shake her head. Her brother's wife looked so nervous, so anxious, as though the teenager was about to lunge at her throat. Really now, how immature could you be? Realizing that Cinderella would not speak any time soon, the girl took it into her own hands.

"Do you have some business with me…?" Gwendolyn inquired in a voice that sounded far too mature for one as young as herself. Her tone was quiet, like a small ripple on a pond, but there was a slight edge to the way she posed the question that caught Cinderella's attention.

"Business?" The blonde repeated, for a moment trying to comprehend what the child had just asked. This girl was fifteen years old but she sounded like she was going on fifty!

"Oh, no, not at all. I was just…I was wondering if we could have a chat, just us girls." Cinderella felt her voice starting to grow stronger, and her nervousness was fading, replaced by immense curiosity. But the annoyed look in Gwendolyn's eyes only got harder, and her expression became, if possible, even _more_ blank.

"Not to offend you, your highness, but I am rather partial to the idea of not having a 'chat' with anyone, at any time, and at any place." The sound of her own voice nearly made Gwendolyn wince. But, if this was the only way to get Cinderella off her back, then so be it.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I was just about to lay down, so, goodnight." Gwendolyn hurriedly decided to excuse herself, and started to close the door of her room as fast as she could. Ah, but she didn't realize that all Cinderella had to do was stick her foot in the pathway of the door, and she could keep it from closing.

"Please, I only want to talk, Gwendolyn. It'll be a few minutes at most, and then you can go to sleep." Pushing on the door with a surprising amount of strength, Cinderella managed to open it all the way, and step inside of the girl's room. And when she got her bearings straight and looked around…well…she was shocked.

The inside of Gwendolyn's room looked like…like something out of a mismatched storybook. There was a nightstand, with a noticeable deficiency, pushed into one corner of the rather small room. On top of the nightstand, old pots and pans were filled to the with different liquids, all of them strange colors. Whatever could not fit on top of the nightstand was on the floor around it; that included chipped and cracked plates holding nails, coins, leaves, etc. Measuring cups were strewn carelessly around the area, most of them looking rather worse for the wear.

Sudden movement from the opposite corner of the room caught Cinderella's eye for a moment, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a large frog sitting calmly in what appeared to be a slightly cracked fish tank. A little habitat had been created for the animal inside of there; a small pond of water, leaves, etc. Had it not been so strange to see an actual amphibian taking residence in the younger princess's room, the woman might have smiled.

Clearing her throat slightly, Cinderella was about to speak up when there was a popping noise coming the nightstand in the corner of the room. Without warning, a clear, bubbly, liquid started to seep out of a pot and onto the desk.

"Oh! That's going to create a mess! Let me help!" Already, the woman was heading over to the lab to try and do something about the liquid, and steam, started to spew out from that pot. Her hand was about an inch away from covering the pot with a top now. Maybe Gwendolyn would appreciate what she was about to do for her and the girl would…

"No! Don't!" Gwendolyn's voice suddenly cried out, at the last second pushing Cinderella away from the pot. Shocked, the woman could only open her mouth to protest…before she saw what the girl was doing.

She whipped on a pair of rubber gloves, she hurriedly wiped down the desk with a small towel, and then, with her face as far as possible from the pot, she placed the top on. Then the girl wrapped a good wad of yarn around the top and pot, making sure that it was nearly unmovable. She gave a relieved sigh as took the gloves off of her hand.

"What…what…why wouldn't you let me help?" Cinderella asked finally, stunned and shocked at what had just happened. She'd never dreamed in a million years that when she tried to help someone, they wouldn't allow her to. Then again…maybe there'd been a reason for Gwendolyn not wanting her help. After all…the girl _had_ acted so strangely around the liquid, as though it was dangerous…

"This," Gwendolyn said finally, nodding her head towards the pot, before locking eyes with Cinderella. "is iron, and sodium mixed together. If you touch it, you'll burn off your skin in a matter of seconds." Gwendolyn had no trouble getting full attention from Cinderella, who looked back at the pot now with a slightly paled expression.

"I-Iron and sodium?" Cinderella questioned, in a slightly shaky voice, eyeing the pot with a very different expression than before. She wasn't exactly sure how Gwendolyn had come in possession of both these objects…and something inside of her told the young woman that she really didn't need to know.

Eyeing Cinderella for a second, the younger princess determined that the older woman would probably not going to leave her be anytime soon. Resisting a roll of her eyes at the way Cinderella eyed the pot, the girl looked back up at the woman with the same annoyed eyes as before.

"If you aren't going to leave, then I suppose you could sit on my bed, your highness. In the meantime, _I_ have to record this reaction." Her eyes trailing downwards, Cinderella noticed that on the corner of what she now assumed to be a make-shift laboratory, there was that journal that Gwendolyn constantly carried around opened to a blank page.

"Well…okay." Cinderella didn't want to move, but the thought of her close call with that experiment the girl had going on still had her nerves fried. "So…I'm guessing you like all these…these chemistry things?" Sitting down on the younger princesses bed, with a small pang the woman realized that it was barely half the size of her own. And she hardly ever used hers.

"Yes." Gwendolyn answered back in a slightly hesitant voice, not knowing whether this would turn into a conversation or not. She hardly ever had conversations with people. Her tutors—or rather, _tutor_ now that her etiquette tutor had quit (what use did a forgotten princess have for etiquette?) —never showed for class. The servants of the castle never noticed her. And the girl's family, well, it was safe to say that she didn't engage in many conversations with them either.

"How did you get into it? I mean, not to be rude, but it's not the most common hobby…" Curiosity is a strange thing, and right now, it was Cinderella's curiosity that was probing her sister-in-law with gentle questions. Gwendolyn gave an annoyed sigh.

"If I answer your question, will you leave me be?"

"I'm not trying to make you feel obligated to answer my questions. I just want to have a nice talk." Noticing the scowl directed towards her at that, Cinderella couldn't help but feel a tiny bit hurt. Here she was, trying to be a good person, and the teenager wasn't helping her out!

Watching her face fall, Gwendolyn held back an eye roll. The woman looked close to crying. That damned woman and her sensitive nature. With a sigh to herself, Gwendolyn turned her eyes back towards her journal and sat in the high stool next to her lab. This way she wouldn't have to look at the pathetic woman any longer.

"When I was younger, to keep me entertained, governess number eight showed me how silver and salt water reacted chemically. I suppose it was all just history from there. It's actually rather fun, once you know what you're doing, of course." Gwendolyn answered back in a mild tone of indifference, shrugging slightly as she wrapped up her notes on the reaction that had just taken place.

"Governess…number six?" Cinderella asked in a quizzical tone, confusion filling her features. "How many governesses did you _have_?" Gwendolyn only gave another slight shrug, closing the journal softly, and then turning around towards Cinderella.

"To my count, seventeen. But I could be wrong, seeing as how I only started to take notice of them when I was six." Seeing the horrified look pass over Cinderella's face, Gwendolyn managed a bleak smile towards the woman before turning back to her small book.

Closing the journal softly, the teen set it with the pen resting on top on the very corner of her little chemistry lab. She resisted the urge to pull her knees up to her chest, like a child, and sit on the very edge of the hard stool she was currently resting on. She couldn't do that in the presence of this woman, not with the appalled looks she was getting from her at just the information that as a child the she'd had more than her share of governesses. Looking back up, the teen saw that her brother's wife was now doing a terrible job trying to cover up the fact that she'd been aghast.

"It may seem shocking at first, your highness, but give it a few hours to sink in and you'll come to the realization that it's not as bad as it seems." Gwendolyn answered her sister-in-law with another bleak smile, before letting her features morph into a look blanker than a new sheet of paper.

Placing her palms flat on the stool's seat, the teen tried to balance her steady herself more. It wasn't that she was _un_steady per say; it was more like she was trying to distract herself with something. She kept her eyes focused on her exposed calves, trying to seem as docile as possible. She'd learned that by doing this, many people simply gave up and went away. And the teenager would be lying if she thought for one moment that after so long, solitude was like a comforting companion.

"I suppose." Cinderella couldn't even dream of having had probably more than seventeen governesses, but she decided to save that conversation for another time. She was here with a plan to find out as much as she could about this girl, and there were already some things that she could easily hope to correct.

"I wish you would sit next to me, and stop calling me 'your highness'. After all, we _are _sisters-in-law…"

Cinderella hadn't known what to expect when she told the girl this…but she knew, somewhere deep inside her heart, that she hadn't expected Gwendolyn not to even move a muscle. She stayed in the exact same position, with only her head lifting so that she cold project her voice. Not that she needed to. The place was so tiny a pin could have dropped in one corner and the ripples would have been felt in the other.

"Not to offend you, your highness, but I would prefer to continue on as I was before. That is, calling you by your title, and remaining where I am."

There was a slight, weary look in Gwendolyn's eyes at that, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't paying _very_ close attention to her. Having to keep up this persona of an always polite, always quiet, always _perfect_ girl was slowly killing her. But, her mind told the girl, if she acted like this then she could ward off becoming attached, and if she never became attached it would be easier when they or she ended up leaving.

"Well, I can't make you do anything you don't want to do." Cinderella sighed, her shoulders dropping and her hands going backwards to support her weight.

The bed sheets felt itchy, and uncomfortable. The mattress felt hard and lumpy. It was as though…as though the girl had gotten whatever was left over, instead of something brand new. Feeling suddenly guilty at the very thought of Gwendolyn having less than she, Cinderella removed both her hands from the narrow bed quickly…and felt one of them brush against something.

Looking towards her right, the woman realized that there was something sticking out from one of the corners of the pillows. Something that looked like paper. Without even thinking about the consequences, she pulled the paper out from underneath the pillow, and let her eyes scan it for a moment. There, in elegant handwriting, was a small poem.

Grown up in a small room  
>And when the rain falls down<br>I just stare out my window

Dreaming of what could be  
>And if I'd end up happy<br>I still pray

Trying hard to reach out  
>But when I try to speak out<br>Feels like no one can hear me

Want to feel a warm breeze  
>Sleep under a palm tree<br>Feel the rush of the ocean

Get onboard and leave the main - Run through a wheat plain far away  
>And breakaway<p>

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly  
>I'll do what it takes 'til I touch the sky<br>I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change.

And one day,  
>I'll breakaway<p>

Cinderella took in a deep breath, calming herself because she was on the verge of tears at the moment. Looking upwards with her mouth slightly agape, she saw Gwendolyn staring in the opposite direction of her gaze, as though not wanting to answer any questions that were sure to come.

"I know you come from a different background than I, your highness, but I can assure you that looking through someone else's things is considered inappropriate. Besides; that was meant for Henry IV—my frog—eyes only."

Gwendolyn said softly, her cheeks starting to burn in a full on blush. The moment she saw Cinderella take the poem from underneath her pillow, she'd fought back the urge the snatch it away from the woman and start to yell.

If she had done what she really wanted to, her sister-in-law could very well go to the king. She could even fabricate some story with a few added tears (let's be reasonable; the woman was virtually a fountain of sensitivity) which would completely ruin her path on the road to freedom. For, if the king should find out that she was an amateur chemist, currently had an animal within the confines of her room, and wrote poetry about the state of her life, then she'd have to explain herself. And for all her quick remarks, the girl felt oddly subdued when it came to speaking with the king.

"Gwendolyn…this is _beautiful_." Cinderella whispered, the shock and tears starting to fade, only slightly though. "Did you…did you write it by yourself?"

"I suppose there's no sense in hiding it now." Gwendolyn said with a sigh, her shoulders slumping and the blank look on her face disappearing altogether. Hanging her head in a way of saying 'sorry', the girl gave another sigh.

"Yes, I wrote it. I…I like poetry. It's a rather simple form of expression. Any half-wit could take a crack at it and create a masterpiece." Trying to bashfully undermine her own work, Gwendolyn felt the itch to hug her knees to her chest intensify.

She wanted to be able to wrap her arms around _something_, at least for the time being. Instead though, the girl settled for adjusting herself on the hard stool. After sitting on it for so long, it was starting to smart.

"Does your father know that you're a poet? Or that you like chemistry?" Cinderella asked in a curious tone, but all she got in response was a slightly bitter laugh.

"The king has never even taken the most minimal interest in my life; he doesn't love me. So, it's safe to say that he does not know that I dabble in poetry _or _chemistry."

Gwendolyn spoke with such indifference, save for a slight bitterness towards the fact that man who had never even _claimed_ to be her father did not love her. Though the girl accepted the fact that she was unloved, it didn't make the sting any less hurtful.

"What?" Cinderella felt the word come out in a sharp intake of breath because of her shock. "Of course the king loves you! You're his daughter! Besides, if he didn't, why would he keep you here?"

Even after speaking those words, Cinderella knew it was a lost concept on the girl. After all, when you've had more than seventeen governesses, and your father, your only surviving parent, hardly takes an interest in you, it was safe to say that you'd believe he did not love you.

"I've always thought that it must have been the queen's dying wish, or something of that nature, which forced the king to let me stay in the castle. They say he was very much in love with his late wife." Pursing out her lips in deep thought, the girl continued.

"To be fairly honest, it doesn't matter. I'm here until I'm eighteen, and nothing can change that." Gwendolyn said this with an indifferent shrug, something which left Cinderella horrified but the girl slightly confused, though you'd never be able to tell judging by how well she was able to hide it.

Was her sister-in-law upset that she was so calm and indifferent on the subject of her mother's death? She shouldn't be. After all, the younger princess only knew the woman who'd given her life through one or two portraits.

"What do you mean you're here until your eighteen?" Cinderella's horror from a moment before was replaced by confusion once again, her head titling to the side and her blonde locks falling with it.

"This castle is my prison; I've never even stepped a foot outside of its gates. But, once I'm eighteen, I'll be a full adult. I'll be able to relinquish my title as princess—though I'm sure the most shocking thing to people will be that another princess _exists_—and go out into the world." The girl's voice was growing stronger now, determined, as though she had it all mapped out.

"My first stop will be a University, and I'll there study every subject there is. I'll be able to be so…to be so…"

Gwendolyn trailed off, her features suddenly turning into a strange expression. It occurred to the girl that she hadn't a clue as to what would happen after that. Feelings hadn't exactly entered the equation in all the time she'd spent dreaming of a new life. Noticing this, Cinderella decided not to comment. It was better to leave something's unsaid anyhow.

Clearing her throat, the woman watched the teenage girl jerk as though she'd been startled. Gwendolyn's penetrating hazel eyes were staring down her blue ones in seconds, their message so clear, even before the girl felt the need to voice it.

"You can't tell this to anyone, your highness. No can know. No. One."

Her voice was low and almost threatening, as though this warning was to be heeded or else the pain of some type of punishment would be inflicted. Cinderella shuddered to think of what that could entail. Or maybe she wasn't shuddering; she was shivering because this room felt like an icicle. It was freezing in here, though it seemed Gwendolyn took no notice of it.

"Don't worry; I would never betray someone by telling their dreams." Cinderella said gently, trying to diffuse the situation with a nice words and a quick subject change. "You've never been outside the castle gates?"

Gwendolyn nodded, looking out her one small window. The night was pitch black; every star in the sky had been swallowed by the darkness. Not one was able to shine, bright and free. No, they were all forced to bend and obey a foreign will.

"What the fairytales don't tell you is that the princess doesn't need to be rescued; she just needs to be set free." Gwendolyn quietly uttered, before sighing to herself and letting her thoughts run rampant for a moment.

For some inexplicable reason, she trusted Cinderella. Maybe it was because of the woman's gentle voice. Maybe it was the fact that the woman was so low on the intelligence ladder that Gwendolyn had absolute faith that she would actually believe the teen would hurt her if she told. Or maybe it was because unlike everyone else… Cinderella was actually listening to her.

"I see." Cinderella replied, in a soft tone.

For her part, let her gaze fall all over the room for a moment, memorizing it in her mind. She had to make sure to approach the king about his daughter, and perhaps, she could find a way to do so if she looked around the girl's room. But her attention was fully taken by the wardrobe, of which a door was nearly falling off its hinges. Inside of the wardrobe were only a handful of dresses, each one darker and smaller-looking than the last.

Very carefully, Cinderella let her eyes trail towards Gwendolyn, who still looked in deep thought. The girl was wearing a worn nightgown that may have been yellow or blue at one point in time, though by now the color was indistinguishable shade of something putrid. But there was something else about the nightgown as well. Sitting down, the hemline which was supposed to brush her feet barely touched the top of her shins.

"Are _all_ your clothes too small for you?" The question suddenly caught Gwendolyn off guard, and the girl stiffened slightly in surprise, before her cheeks heated up and she averted her eyes to everything but her brother's wife.

She was ashamed. More than ashamed. She was embarrassed, mortified, horrified, etc., etc. Here she was, princess of a kingdom…and she didn't even own one article of clothing that fit her properly. It was practically degrading, a princess having to use old pots and pans in the place of beakers and cylinders, or a princess having all her clothes ill-fitting. That's why Gwendolyn had her face beet red.

"Well…erm…" Blushing a furious shade of red, Gwendolyn coughed uneasily, still looking away from Cinderella's blue eyes. "Usually when I was bursting at the seams of all my clothes…the governess at that time would beg the king so that she could order new clothes made for me. But…ah…governess number seventeen quit a two, nearly three years…so…"

"In almost three years, you haven't gotten anything new?"

Horror seemed to be one of the main emotions tonight, Cinderella mused darkly in a corner of her mind. In the first two months of being a princess, she'd had an entire wardrobe made for her, complete with shoes, jewels, hair accessories, etc. Briefly, the woman wondered if Gwendolyn had ever even had that many clothes in her lifetime.

"Not really…"

"Why haven't you told your father?" Gwendolyn finally looked up at Cinderella, and the slightly annoyed, incredulous expression on her face brought the blonde back to earth.

Well, that was a ridiculous question, now that she had the chance to think over it.

"I'll talk to him about it tomorrow, alright?" It seems that Cinderella now had her excuse to go talk to the king, one on one, about his daughter. Perfect.

"Thank you."

"I should let you get some rest." Cinderella finally said, smiling a winning smile at Gwendolyn who managed a weak one back. Tonight, she'd tried to keep it all in…but Cinderella was just so dang good at getting the girl to speak. Stupid blonde.

"Goodnight, Gwendolyn." Already heading to the door, the sound of a voice made the woman turn around almost immediately.

"Your highne—er, Cinderella?"

"Yes?"

"Would it be possible for you and I to do this again, in the future? Have a so called…'chat', I mean?"

Gwendolyn wasn't going to go run and hug Cinderella for the way the woman had treated her tonight. She wasn't that unrefined. And she wasn't going to apologize for her earlier, rather cold behavior either because that seemed like too much work. But she could ask for something just as good, something that would benefit both of them.

"I'd like that." Cinderella said with another winning smile, feeling as though a miracle had happened. "Pleasant dreams, sweetie." Gwendolyn gave a nod in return to Cinderella's well wish, a serious nod.

"And to you as well."

The door closed softly behind Cinderella, and once out in the hallway, she gave a sigh of relief. It felt like someone had just taken a huge weight off of her chest. She had no clue that inside of the room, Gwendolyn was doing the same thing.


	6. Chapter 6: To Love, or Not to Love

In her entire life, that is, in twenty years, Cinderella never dreamed that one day she'd be the daughter-in-law to the king. She'd dreamed of marrying the prince, (what little girl hadn't) but somehow, the thought of being so close towards the king had never made itself known. So with that in mind, you can assume that she'd also never dreamed she'd be arguing with the king.

The argument had started out with Cinderella casually mentioning it to the king that Gwendolyn was in need of new clothes. When Eadberht had stiffened, and said that the girl was fine with what she had now, Cinderella pushed even harder for the king to realize that, in fact, his daughter _wasn't_ fine with what she had. Eadberht had raised his head up defiantly, saying that Cinderella had it all wrong—after all, Gwendolyn had a tutor, _and_ she was a princess; how was that not fine?

The blonde woman had huffed in slight annoyance, and stated that there was more to Gwendolyn than the 'all is fine' appearance she put up; if the king didn't know that, than he should see his daughter during her lessons and find out. Eadberht wholly loathed the idea and made his opinion known. All of that had lead to this.

"But what's the harm in just checking up on her during her lessons?" Cinderella pressed, trying as hard as she possibly could to convince the king to take _some_ type of interest in his daughter.

"Plenty!" Eadberht said aggressively, starting to become annoyed by his daughter-in-law. "I could be disrupting an important lesson and all because you want me to 'check up on' the girl!" Turning away from Cinderella in his large chair, the King gave a childish 'hmph', which for most would mean the end of this conversation. Unfortunately, 'most' didn't include Cinderella.

"There's no lesson in the entire _world_ that's more important than understanding your own daughter!" The princess interjected, her tone almost pleading now. She didn't even stop to think why she was doing this; she just knew that she had too.

"Bah!" Eadberht returned, waving his hand in a dismissing fashion. Cinderella shot a pleading look towards the Grand Duke, trying to enlist him into helping her. And no one could resist that look, not even the man who'd been with the king since the prince had been born.

"Your majesty, I do believe the girl may be right. After all, the younger princess attends her lessons six days a week, from breakfast to dinner. I dare say you wouldn't be interrupting _too_ much if you were to simply stop by once and a while, and perhaps—"

The Grand Duke was suddenly forced to cut himself off, give a small yelp, and duck as a small bejeweled dagger was thrown right at him. Thankfully, his quick instincts (working for the king so long, he knew how volatile the man's temper was, so by now he was used to these sorts of things) saved him from getting stabbed. Instead, the dagger continued its straight path, until it hit its target. And boy, what a target it hit.T

The dagger managed to land directly onto a portrait above a not-in-use-at-the-moment fireplace….and that was a portrait of the late queen. The dagger pierced through her right eye; she managed to now look rather funny, smiling widely and holding a daisy in dainty hands, while a dagger was lodged in one of her eyes. Had it not been for the fact that the queen's death had saddened the entire kingdom and was still a hurtful subject for all to speak of now, both Cinderella and the Grand Duke would have burst out laughing. Instead though, they exchanged wary, solemn glances that hinted with sorrow.

Eadberht, who became suspicious of the lengthy silence, turned his chair back around to face Cinderella and the Grand Duke, wondering if he'd actually managed to hurt the man this time. But, as he followed both their gazes, his eyes widened and his heart started pumping at a rate that could not be good.

"Oh no." His face paled completely, and Eadberht wasted absolutely no time in standing up and running towards the portrait of his late wife. To hoot, this was one of his favorite one's. Numbly, his fingers reached upwards, running his hand across her cheek, lost within his own grief that she was gone, before he gently pulled the dagger out from the portrait. It goes without saying that Cinderella noticed this.

"Your highness?" The woman asked in a soft voice, taking a step closer to the king. Eadberht, startled, looked back at his daughter-in-law with a saddened expression.

"Yes?" His voice was rough with emotion, and he was just barely managing to hide the fact that he was near tears. He'd accepted his wife was gone years ago, but that didn't make the pain any less. The only thing he could do now was to smile sadly and move on with what remained of his life.

"You had the chance to know and love your wife…Gwendolyn never did. There's nothing wrong with getting to know your daughter better; maybe you could even tell her about her mothe—" Cinderella started slowly, but was cut off by Eadberht who's fury was unmatched by all.

"Now you listen well to _me_, Cinderella," The king snarled, his former sadness gone completely; now it was time for anger to take over. "I am the _king_ of this castle; whatever I do, and whatever I say _goes_! I will not get to know _that_ _girl_ any better, and I don't want to hear another word about it!" Eadberht yelled, his hazel eyes flashing dangerously. Cinderella stood her ground, unblinking, holding her head high. She'd faced worse from Stepmother after all.

"But your majesty, the poor girl was only trying to—gah!" Furious, Eadberht grabbed a vase and threw it across the opposite wall. The Grand Duke was once again forced to duck for his life, nearly missing the vase. Smiling weakly at the king, he realized not too soon that he should probably keep his mouth closed.

"Not another word!" A dangerous artery stuck out of Eadberht's neck, one that looked on the edge of popping. His face turned tomato red, and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. But Cinderella did not even flinch; she just took in a breath and kept her features determined.

"With thoughts like that, it's no wonder your own daughter has shut herself away from the world, and thinks you don't love her." Her voice shook only slightly, and too late Cinderella realized that she had tears in her blue eyes. Gwendolyn wasn't a murderer; she was an innocent, fifteen year old girl who was on the verge of womanhood…and had absolutely no one on her side.

The air in the room suddenly seemed to be sucked in by Eadberht. He collapsed into his large chair, slumping slightly and pressing a hand against his hot forehead. All this flying off the handle wasn't good for his heart…and neither were these despicable lies being told to him by Cinderella.

His own flesh and blood, thinking he didn't love her? Impossible! And the girl hadn't shut herself away from the world either; no, surely Cinderella was doing this just to hurt his poor heart.

"Your majesty?" The Grand Duke ventured to ask, but was ignored by the king who kept his weak eyes focused on Cinderella, and Cinderella only.

"That…that's not true…that's…that's inconceivable!" Eadberht mumbled, rubbing his eyes with two fingers. He was no longer a young man; he was starting to get on in his years, and it really did show at times like these.

Thankfully, his daughter-in-law, even when in the midst of an argument with him, was a saint. Cinderella carefully dabbed a cool compress on the king's forehead, and spoke in gentle tones. A compress was always kept in reach of the Eadberht because of his volatile temper.

"I managed to get her talking last night and she told me herself, sir." Cinderella said, in about the soberest tone she could manage. This wasn't easy to say, especially since she was saying it not only to the king, but also to a father. A father, who deep inside, still had to feel _something_ for his child. "It's not true...is it?" From the look on the king's face at that, the woman knew it'd been a silly thing to ask.

"_Half_ of her genes are mine. Of course I bloody love her!" Or at least, I try to do my best to love her, Eadberht thought to himself with a slight shudder. Sitting upright and removing the compress from his forehead, the king looked straight at the Grand Duke.

"You've been with me since Charmond was born; tell me the truth man, isn't it obvious?" Eadberht's tone was half begging, and half angry that something like this could be debated. And when he saw the Grand Duke sigh, and look away, all his anger and hope melted away.

"Well, sire, I know how you feel but…ah, to be completely honest…" Here, the Grand Duke hid behind a statue of armor, just in case. "Your majesty has never really…_divided_ his attention equally among the younger princess and the prince." Ducking almost immediately, the Grand Duke was surprised when nothing was thrown at him. Gratefully, the man took a step away from the suit of armor, realizing that he was in no danger…at the moment, that is.

"You can't be serious…" Eadberht groaned again, catching his face in his hands. He'd ignored the girl, yes…but he hadn't been so horrible as to make her think that he didn't even like her…had he? Oh dear lord…he _had_, hadn't he?

"What else did she tell you?" Now there was something desperate in his tone, a far cry from the anger he'd just unleashed earlier.

"I can't say everything, your majesty, but I can tell you that once Gwendolyn is eighteen she has…big plans." Cinderella had promised not to tell on Gwendolyn's dreams, and she wouldn't. She wouldn't say a word about them. But if the king guessed them …

"Big plans once she's eighteen?" Eadberht repeated, getting up to his feet now and pacing back and forth. He tugged at what was left of his white hair, trying to figure out what on earth that could mean. And then it hit him. "Wait…when she's eighteen she's an adult…she can leave!" Now the king's words were starting to mush all together, as he starting unraveling this mystery.

"And the only way for her to leave is if…she wouldn't renounce her title just because of what I've done, would she?" Cinderella looked away, biting her lip. She wouldn't reveal something so precious as a dream, even now that the king was guessing it. By her reaction, Eadberht got his answer, and his face paled completely.

"I-I've got to do something!" The king announced, though he made no attempt to run towards the door, or think of any ideas as to what to do. Actually, he was slightly afraid to do anything. After all, he'd spent so many years ignoring the girl…he couldn't just stop doing that _completely_…could he? If he did, she'd open up to him, right? But…could he handle that?

After all…this was the child that was the death of his beloved wife. The only reason he even _knew_ the girl's birthday was because it was the anniversary of his wife's death. But still. This was Cassandra's child; it was the last thing he had of his late wife. He had already lost one of them; his heart couldn't bear to lose the other.

"She can't just leave! What do I do?"

"You could make sure that she get's properly fitted for new clothes. And then maybe make sure your warmer around her." Cinderella suggested, making sure that she kept true to her promise to Gwendolyn. After all, this had been the point of the visit to the king's study…not what else had happened.

"Huh? Be warmer? New clothes? Yes, I can do that." Eadberht mused, before giving a dismissive wave at the idea. "Get the seamstress to do something about her clothes." This was directed at Cinderella, who gave a silent sigh of relief. At least now Gwendolyn could actually fit into something. "Then what?"

"Ah…your majesty _could_ try to make more of a conversation with the girl at dinner. Perhaps ask her about her day, and ask more about her studies…" The Grand Duke filled this part in, cautiously. He didn't need to nearly have his head taken off again.

"Conversation? Yes! Conversation! What else! What else, man!" Eadberht nearly shouted, this time in excitement. He was getting somewhere, finally. As the Grand Duke tried to come up with more ideas, Cinderella expertly slipped away.

Once outside the study, she could still hear the king's loud shouts of excitement as a new idea as to how to keep the girl from leaving once she was an adult came up. Smiling slightly to herself at her work, the woman hummed a light, happy tune to herself and started walking in the opposite direction.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay guys, another three chapters. I was a bit disappointed to see only two reviews since my traffic stats say that a lot more people have read this story. So please guys, review. This is only the compensation a fanfic writer gets for putting their stories online. Reviews really help :)<strong>

**Also, in the previous chapter the poem was really a Kelly Clarkson song called 'Breakaway'. I own no rights to it, but it still rocks :) **

**PLEASE Review!**


	7. Chapter 7: Spilling Secrets

Hades himself could not have been happier at the pain Gwendolyn felt when she sat at dinner. The girl had long gotten over the fact that she was not spoken to, or that her father would always ask her the same question and she was not to stray from her one word answer.

What sincerely hurt though, was the fact that she was forced to stay seated for at least twenty minutes straight, with people she _knew _did not like her. She could be doing something productive in this time, say, finding out the reaction between two new chemicals, or spending some quality time with Henry IV, the girl's pet frog.

Ah, but that was impossible. So instead, during this awful time known was 'dinner', the girl usually configured a new poem, or looked over her scientific data from a previous experiment. In this way, she was able to ignore her family, her family was able to ignore her, and all's well that ends well. Or so the teen thought.

"How are your studies coming along?" Eadberht finally asked, for the first time in a long time taking in her appearance. She took after her mother in every way. From the way her hair curled just slightly at the ends, to the soft curves that she was starting to attain…it was like looking at his dear Cassandra. Just the thought of his wife made the king's heart lurch in pain.

"Well." Not bothering to look up, Gwendolyn kept on writing in her journal, trying to finish a poem that she was working on. Whereas most children expressed themselves through instruments, art, and sports, Gwendolyn had never had a talent for any of those things. And, having never had a true friend, she'd never realized how odd it was for a teenage girl to express herself through poetry and chemistry. Ah well. To each his own, correct?

Eadberht blinked once, wracking his brain for an idea as to what to do now. All the ideas he and the Grand Duke had brainstormed earlier were quickly wiped out of his mind.

Did he keep on ignoring her, as it had always been at this time? Did he see her later about the issue of her renouncing her title and leaving when she was of age? Did he just spill it all out now, the reason he disliked her presence, the reason he'd shunned her, and then, following his example, others had also shunned her? Did he ask her about the weather?

His brown eyes flickered over to Cinderella, who gave the king an encouraging look and reassuring smile. Tilting her head in the direction of Gwendolyn, she let her eyes stare intently at what the girl was writing, and then look back at the king. She was trying to convey that the king should ask the girl what she was writing. It made sense, at least in Cinderella's mind, despite the largely perplexed expression on her husband's face. But for Eadberht, the meaning was completely lost.

"Put that journal away and stop writing." The king commanded, in a tone that he was used to barking orders in. He didn't know any other tone. Years of neglect towards the girl made him have absolutely no clue what to do with her. And besides, in his mind it was the only thing to do.

Gwendolyn's hand stopped midway through a word. The girl's head slowly lifted upwards, her hazel eyes not meeting those of the king. Her lips parted to speak, but she found her mouth too dry to do so. Her expression was impassive, though if one looked closely enough, they could see shock flickering in the girl's eyes. Not shock that the man people said was her father had just told her to put away her journal, but shock that he'd actually _told_ her something other than 'good', or 'how are your studies coming along'.

"Father?" Char asked in an incredulous voice, equally as surprised as his sister that their father was talking to her. He never spoke to Gwendolyn; _ever_! Swiveling around in his chair to look at his wife, his eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion at Cinderella's tight smile. She had something to do with this, he just knew it.

"Well? Is there a problem?" Eadberht asked, upon seeing that the teen and Char were staring at him bug-eyed and slack-jawed. "Did I say something wrong?" Though Eadberht's tone was annoyed, he wasn't yet angered. He'd soon be getting there if this idea to converse with the girl didn't work out though.

"No sir." Both Gwendolyn and Char answered at the same time, before turning to look at one another in surprise. Neither of them had ever been close enough to share more than a polite 'good morning', so the fact that they would answer their father, at the same time, with the same answer? It was nothing short of mind blowing.

"Good. So put away that journal...ah…" Eadberht struggled to make the girl's name come out of his throat, but it just wouldn't budge. The only name he could think of when he saw the girl was his sweet wife Cassandra, who was now dead and buried in the ground.

"Why?" Gwendolyn questioned in a careful and cautious voice. Her hazel colored eyes looked down at the table, unable to meet those of her king. She didn't know why he was speaking to her, she didn't know why he was asking her to put away her journal, and she definitely did not understand why the king's face grew red and he was grinding his teeth.

"I don't have to have a reason." Eadberht snapped, grinding his teeth to keep his anger in check. He wasn't used to be questioned for his motives, especially by a child. He just assumed that the girl would follow his order blindly and do as he said, as she had always done. "Now, I'll ask you again. Put that journal away or I'll take it away."

"Father—" Char interjected, trying to ease the situation.

"This doesn't involve you, Charmond." Eadberht snapped at his son, who immediately closed his jaw. He wasn't going to have his father become angry at him. His sister was a big girl; she could stand up for herself.

"But sir, remember what we spoke about. You know, about being warmer…" Cinderella interjected herself into the conversation this time, ignoring the look Char gave her at that. She'd probably get an earful from him tonight about interfering with this whole Gwendolyn business, after he'd specifically told her not to.

"You were speaking about _me_? What were you speaking _about_?" Confusion lit up in Gwendolyn's eyes, though she kept her voice even. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest; what was going on?

Cinderella had only said she'd ask the King to get Gwendolyn some new clothes…she'd never said anything about making all this happen! The teen had never wanted any of this! All she wanted was something that fit her! Was that so hard to understand?

"That's none of your concern." Eadberht snapped irritably at the teen, who in turn let her eyes fall downwards to her lap. Not because she was hurt though. Because she was trying to keep herself from losing her calm, polite composure.

"When I'm eighteen." The girl mumbled inaudibly to herself, or so she thought.

Since the table was silent for that one moment, her mumble managed to reach across the table to her father…to her brother…and even to Cinderella. Char looked confused as ever, Cinderella looked worried, and Eadberht just looked…well, he didn't look very well.

"What makes you think that when your eighteen you'll be doing anything?" Eadberht said in a furious tone, quickly losing all calm. He wasn't sure why he was so angry with her; all he knew was that he wanted the girl to come back to reality. And reality was that she wouldn't be going anywhere, no matter what.

"By then, your majesty, I'll be an adult." Gwendolyn answered in an even voice, still keeping her eyes downcast. "And according to the law, as an adult I am fully capable of doing as I wish." There was some slight, hardly noticeable anger in Gwendolyn's tone. It was enough to make Cinderella flinch.

"Let's not ruin dinner by getting into this subject." Cinderella almost pleaded, trying as hard as she could to bring down the hostile situation. "We're all just a little worked up at the moment; why don't we take a break for awhile, and then come back to this when everyone has calmed down?"

'Everyone' in that sentence was obviously referring to Eadberht and Gwendolyn. The estranged father and daughter were locked in an intense conversation, one that had been building up since the day Gwendolyn had been born. They hardly paid any heed to Cinderella's desperate tone.

"Well, I forbid it." Eadberht felt himself snarl. His eyes burned like a thousand suns of hatred, each little ray pushing Gwendolyn far beyond human limits. The girl nearly snorted in reproach, but snorting was unladylike, and one did not snort at the King. No matter if the King was your father.

"Your majesty forbids me from turning eighteen?" There was a slight, almost taunting edge to the younger princess's voice.

She was quite fed up with being this polite, perfect, invisible princess. She was tired of the charade already. She'd been craving an actual conversation with her father for years now, and if making him furious was the only way for him to speak to her, then so be it.

"Don't you dare use that tone with me!" Eadberht roared, slamming his fist down on the table. "I am the _king _of this castle; you will obey what _I_ say, and you'll do it without question!" A vein poked out of the king's neck from his yelling.

"And by the way, I forbid you from ever even _thinking_ about renouncing your title and moving away from this castle!" Breathing heavily in his anger, Eadberht didn't realize that Gwendolyn was slowly lifting her head, and her hazel eyes were searching around the room till she met Cinderella's blue eyes.

"You told." The girl said in a flat tone, her voice cool and unemotional. How could she have been so _stupid_? She knew better than to let her guard down; especially to those who had an in with the king. She knew better. And yet, she'd still trusted Cinderella, thinking the woman could do her no harm.

"No, Gwendolyn, it's a misunderstan—!"

"Told what?" Char spoke over his wife, his own confusion finally taking a hold of him and forcing him to speak aloud.

Dinner had never been like this before. Things had always just been so simple. Ignore Gwendolyn, eat dinner, go to bed with a conscience that was relatively guilt free. And now things were just so dang complicated, and all because one tiny aspect of their lives had tried to be changed.

"You were talking to _her_?" The pieces of the puzzle started to form together, and Char looked nothing short of horrified and outraged that his wife had been talking to his sister. Cinderella bit her lip.

"Charmond, honey, you have to understand! I was just—"

"No, I _don't_ have to understand!" Char said in a hiss of a voice. "I told you specifically not to get involved with this Cinderella, and you still went ahead and did so! Don't you see what a problem this whole issue with her is? _Don't you_?"

At his comments, Cinderella, while usually pretty tough, looked close to tears at the moment. After years of emotional abuse at the hands of her stepfamily, she was still very sensitive to having someone speak to her in such a tone. Char looked torn between apologizing for using such a harsh voice, and continuing on with what he was saying before. Eadberht still looked red with fury, murderously staring down the teen at the table.

"You will obey whatever_ I_ say, and I _said, _give me that damn journal!" Eadberht yelled, noticing how Gwendolyn was still clutching her journal to her chest for dear life.

But the girl's fingers wouldn't move. They stayed stuck on the book, almost as though they were glued. And so, the king jumped out of his chair, threw his plate on the ground, swore aloud, reached over, and ripped the journal right out of the girl's grasp. Pages flew everywhere, landing on food, people, the floor, everything. The teenager blinked hard for a moment, and felt her mouth go dry.

And for the first time in her life, Gwendolyn felt as though she split into two people. One person was staring all around her, taking in the big picture of her family at the table, and the other person started to do the oddest thing. The second person started to twitch impulsively, first her eye, then her shoulder, and then, the person opened their mouth.

An ear piercing, earth shattering, glass cracking scream that defied all odds arose from the second Gwendolyn's throat, as the first Gwendolyn watched with horror. Every activity at the table stopped. Eadberht stopped midway through trying to snatch one of the papers, Char's hand stopped midway towards Cinderella, and Cinderella's hands stopped just centimeters from her eyes. Everyone just stopped and stared as Gwendolyn finally lost it.

"I _**hate**_ this!" The girl screeched at the top of her lungs.

"I hate y_ou_," the teen's gaze swiveled to Cinderella as she said this, making the poor woman burst into unbridled tears. "I hate _you_," this one was directed towards Char, "and I hate _you_!" The last one was pointed directly at her father.

Though it may seem as though this was too much for one small girl, the second Gwendolyn couldn't control herself. The first Gwendolyn had the brain, but the second had the body. And after years and years of emotional torment, it was all just breaking free.

"I hate this castle, I hate the people, I hate my room, I hate my clothes, I hate my studies, I hate being the forgotten princess, but most _especially_, I _hate_ the goddamn queen for _ever_ giving me life! I wish I would have died with her!" Nearly hysterical in her screeching now, Gwendolyn felt the two parts of her suddenly become one again.

She expected to be horrified at her words…but strangely, she wasn't. She actually felt…slightly relieved, as though all that had been building up for years and years, and she'd finally gotten the chance to say it.

So, for the very first time in her life, the perfect, polite, forgotten princess turned into the _im_perfect, _im_polite, very-well-_known_ princess who was frustrated and _furious_. Pushing her chair away from the table, the girl left behind a bawling Cinderella, a thunderstruck Char, and a shattered Eadberht.


	8. Chapter 8: She Has to Go Find Freedom

SLAM!

_I used to be your princess and I know I did it well  
>Oh yes you know it's true<em>

The door to Gwendolyn's room was shut so hard that the sound reverberated off the walls. Stalking into her room angrily, the girl's hazel eyes took only one moment to adjust to the darkness before she made her way over to the broken wardrobe. She stood in front of it for a full minute, trying to decide which dress would fit her plan. Since she only had about five or six and each one of them was looking worse for the wear, this was relatively simple.

The dress she decided upon was an ugly, faded, dark-orange color and it was made of cheap, coarse material. It was about three years old, so the chest area was nearly suffocating, but a little loss of air never hurt anyone. It came up so short on the girl that it just barely brushed the top of her knees. There was more than one hole, and there was absolutely no frill, lace, beadwork, colorful stitching, or intricate patterns on it. Prudence had once even commented that the girl looked like a scullery maid when the teen wore this.

And that's why the girl grinned in the darkness.

_You'd call me Cinderella  
>All you had to do was yell<br>And I'd be there for you_

Cinderella sat up straight in her bed, her arms wrapped around a thick pillow and her legs. She rested her back against the headboard, and stared at the far wall of her overly large room. Tears were falling down her face in a quick succession, and the soft, quick gasps that left her lips were a testament to her sobs.

She'd always been a kindhearted person. Many had taken advantage of her sweet nature, using her more often than not for their own will. But then there were those whom she'd helped, those who'd been so grateful to her that they couldn't even put it in words. Sometimes the situation had gone awry, and it seemed like the person she was helping would be better off without her. But in the end, everything turned out fine, like a picture perfect storybook.

This was the very first time where Cinderella had tried to help, and had just ended up hurting.

_Maybe I should have just listened to Char_, the woman thought to herself with a loud sob. Maybe if she'd listened to her husband and left the entire Gwendolyn situation alone, she wouldn't be crying at the moment. Maybe if she'd listened to her husband, the king could have kept on ignoring his daughter and been happy doing it. Maybe if she'd listened to her husband, she wouldn't have been yelled at by him today. Maybe if she'd listened to her husband Gwendolyn would be…would be…

That's where Cinderella stopped. Listened to her husband? Was she mad? She _couldn't_ have listened to Char. Not while a girl was tossed aside, as though she was yesterday's trash. What happened at dinner was bound to have happened eventually; after being pushed around for so long, Gwendolyn finally exploded.

Perhaps the older princess had made this happen a bit sooner than it should have, but in reality she'd done nothing _horrible_. She should get up and go to Gwendolyn, explain what had transpired, and fix this all. That's what she should do.

But what was the point?

A feeling of misery fixed itself upon the woman. Gwendolyn hated her, and the girl seemed like the type to hold a grudge. Besides, what could she say to the teen? 'I'm sorry I pushed for this to happen'? Like that would fix anything.

She just had to face the facts; though Gwendolyn's outburst was something that would naturally have happened sooner or later, Cinderella had sped it up and had caused the girl to crack. Gwendolyn was like a broken China doll. Yes, you could glue it back together, but you would always see the outline of those old cracks and _know_.

_Here I am  
>So try to forgive me<br>I don't believe in fairy tales_

King Eadberht gave a disparaging sigh, filling up a glass to the brim with port, and then swallowing it all in one gulp. He set the glass hard down on the table, before turning and slumping into his large seat in front of the fire. One hand pressed against his aching head, and the other held his cheek up. He sighed again.

Why couldn't his life just stay put for once? Why couldn't everything he'd worked so hard for, everything he'd spent years creating, stop crumbling down at him when he tried to do something good?

His dear Cassandra had desperately wanted another child, a girl this time, she would state. Charmond was a wonderful gift, but already at the age of seven he was acting like a little man. So Cassandra had wanted a little girl, someone who would always be her baby.

They'd spent countless nights trying, and every time it was to no avail. So they (or as the king saw it, _he_) became reckless, and started pushing the limit of when they were "safe". Out of the blue the queen became pregnant, and while a bit of a surprise, everything started to fall into place.

Then the fairytale ended. Cassandra lay dead, and the little girl she had so desperately wanted was the reason for it. His entire world crumbled down on him, and all because of that girl. It took some time, but he finally managed to reconstruct his life. Everything, while not perfect, was pretty great. And then, stupidly, he'd taken advice from Cinderella and tried to initiate contact with that same little girl, only to have his world crumble down on him once again.

She hated him. The way she had said it, the tone she'd used…she was serious. It wasn't a fit of teenage rage that would pass. No, the girl really and truly loathed him. And she hated her dead mother. Even worse, she hated ever being born. She literally cursed the day that her mother had died bringing her into the world.

Eadberht sighed again, tugging on his mustache. Although this was horrible to think, he wondered what life would have been like if it had been the other way around. Cassandra hadn't lost her life, and the baby had. No doubt things would have been better. They could have tried for more children, perhaps have had another son…

Oh, what was he _thinking_? Was he regretting the fact that he had another child? Was he regretting that said child was _alive_? Eadberht moaned a heartbreaking sound that hadn't left his lips since the day he lost his wife. No wonder the girl hated him. Even _he_ hated him.

_Here we are with nothing but honesty  
>I've had enough<br>I'm not gonna stay_

Char ran a fist through his short dark hair, though it hardly mattered. He slumped down onto his bed, subconsciously rubbing his wedding ring in the process. He gave a loud sigh, his heart sinking to his stomach as he stared at the ceiling.

He hadn't meant to yell at Cinderella, really he hadn't. He understood that the emotional abuse she'd received from living with her Stepmother and stepsisters for all those years was still fresh in her memory. But he had every right to be angry at that moment.

He'd only told his wife the truth; his relative was an odd seed. Everyone would do best to stay away from her, and to leave things as they were. After all, life wasn't so terrible. The girl didn't seem to be miserable, his father didn't seem to be interested in pursuing another tactic concerning her, and Char didn't seem to have even the slightest impact on her life. But the way things seem and what they really are two very different things.

For instance, Gwendolyn's views concerning her life. He'd thought that the girl was fine with the way she was living. But obviously, she hadn't been. Her outburst at dinner had probably been something that was building up inside her for years. She'd repressed it, and then had uttered the second three most dangerous words. _I hate you._ Even just hearing them repeated in his mind stung.

Hate? When had someone ever hated him? He was a prince. Revered, exulted, loved by all…no one had ever hated him. But in a strange way, somehow it made sense that his sister would be the one to break away from all that.

After all, he'd never been a good person to her. Or a bad person. Perhaps it would have made a difference if he'd been cruel towards her, mocked her every move. But he hadn't. He simply ignored his sister, and told his wife to do the same when it concerned her.

Now because of that, he'd hurt his Cinderella.

His wonderful, beautiful, everything-he'd-ever-wanted-in-a-woman, Cinderella. And…he'd probably hurt Gwendolyn, though he reasoned with himself that that wasn't as bad because, well, it was _Gwendolyn_. She was used to it…right? Or was that just he?

_I'm sorry for running away like this  
>And I'm sorry I've already made my wish<br>Oh, But Cinderella's got to go_

Gwendolyn walked down the various halls and corridors of her home, eyes straight ahead, lips pulled taut and hands grasping her pet frog beneath the ripped cloak she wore. She'd tried to stitch up that rip when it happened, but had given up when she realized that some things weren't meant to be.

People passed her in a blur, no one really taking notice of the child walking down the hallway. If they assumed anything, they thought she was some type of scullery maid who was pretending to be older than she really was to bring back money to her poor family. After all, only the very poor wouldn't be able to supply their daughter with adequate attire.

For almost every teen who'd ever run away, they waited 'til after midnight, so that they could steal away under the cover of thick darkness. Gwendolyn, however, walked down the halls calmly, letting the evening light hit her without notice, and not showing any signs of anxiety about what she was about to do. In her dress pocket, hidden from view, even her frog Henry IV was calmly sitting down. After all, she'd been planning this since she'd been six.

Almost musingly, she thought about what was going to happen when they discovered her missing. No doubt it would take at least a full day, perhaps two, for someone to realize that something was amiss. Would they search for her? Perhaps. Her king was not known for relinquishing his toys so easily. And that's all Gwendolyn was to him. A toy. An item that would not bring despair to anyone if she was lost.

_ From time to time _

_I'd try to tell you _

_W__hat was on my mind_

_You told me not today _

Gwendolyn kept walking. Slow, carefully measured steps that would not alert anyone to her presence, though she doubted if she did cartwheels and handstands that people would even look at her. She walked past the king's study without even a blink, even though she knew for a fact that he was in there. Maybe he was even reading through her stolen journal. Who knew? Gwendolyn certainly didn't, and she didn't care either.

It's not like he'd even pay attention to the poems she'd written. He'd probably just shrug them off; like he did with anything she voiced aloud, and keep on going with his life. Like he, the king, cared what a fifteen year old girl had to say. Even if that fifteen year old girl lived with him. Even if that fifteen year old girl had spent years trying to capture his attention. Even if that fifteen year old girl was his daughter.

_Come back, do that.  
>Where's, Cinderella at...<br>Was all you had to say_

For a moment, Gwendolyn stopped by a large window, her hazel eyes fixed on the image before her. The village. Life beyond castle walls. Life without having to constantly be treated like a third class citizen in her own home, with her own people swatting her away as though she was a fly.

"Life with the freedom to do as I please." Gwendolyn spoke to herself, her voice sounding softer than usual. No more would she be forced to stay in the same routine. No more would her tutors—or, rather, still _tutor_—chastise her for trying to break away from the norm. She'd no longer have to do that, any of that. She'd be free as a bird, to do as she wished, when she wished, and for how long she wished.

Determination welled up inside her, the girl kept on walking to her destination.

_Here I am, so try to forgive me  
>I don't believe in fairy tales<em>

Footstep after footstep, she finally made it outside. The night was fast approaching, and with it came the cool weather. Winter was not known for being a friendly time, but there seemed to be even more of a distinct chill in the air tonight, as though the weather knew what she was about to do.

Keeping her shoulders hunched under her pathetic excuse for a cloak, Gwendolyn lowered her head and kept her eyes trained to the ground. She did not dare wear her worn slippers; undoubtedly someone would realize who she was by them.

Instead, she wore a pair of thick boots that she'd taken from her brother about eight years before. He'd never noticed them missing, and at seven years of age no would have expected that she was already collecting items for whenever she decided to runaway.

She was finally going to leave behind all this. All that she hated, all that she'd spent years plotting how to get away from, she'd finally be doing it. Before it had just been a matter of time; when would the time for her to leave be best? As soon as she had decided upon a date, someone would notice her and she would reconsider leaving. After all, if that one person was noticing her, then the others would soon follow. But that never happened. Soon she would be setting another date to leave, and then wouldn't you know it, someone would notice her again and the cycle would repeat itself.

But now that cycle was going to be broken. Her life had never been a fairy tale, but she'd stuck with it, hoping that things would get better. After all, isn't that what always happens in those dratted books? Well, those books were wrong. Cinderella's case had been one in a billion, and that was certainly not going to happen for someone like Gwendolyn.

_Here we are with nothing but honesty  
>I've had enough<br>I'm not gonna stay_

"You going home?" A guard that was posted beside the large castle gates jerked his thumb in the direction of the village that lay beyond. These weren't the formal gates; these were used as a servants' entrance. The way they immediately fed into the large village beyond helped tremendously, or so Gwendolyn assumed. She'd only ever seen other people use them.

"Yes sir." Gwendolyn spoke up, looking up briefly to nod at the guard. He squinted at her a long moment. Too long. Long enough for the girl to start to grow agitated, though she kept it hidden well.

"Swear, they keep hiring younger and younger." The man finally muttered to himself, pushing open the gate slightly so that Gwendolyn could slip out. For a second longer, his eyes lingered on her, before he shrugged and resumed his post. Many servants, especially the young ones, lived in the village. He didn't have to spend anymore thoughts on such a silly thing.

_I'm sorry, just tryin' to live my life, don't worry,  
>You will be alright<br>Oh, but Cinderella's got to go._

For the first time in her life, the forgotten princess casually walked out the gates that had been her barrier from the outside world for so long. Snow crunched beneath her thick boots, and with each step, her heart soared just a bit more. Only one word rang in her mind, one word that made her lips curl upwards in slight thrill.

Freedom.

* * *

><p><strong>The song used is called 'Cinderella' by Britney Spears. Since the very begining of this story, I had wanted to incorporate it somehow. I own no rights to it, but I do have a love for the lyrics. :) <strong>


	9. Chapter 9: How a Heart Breaks

Eadberht didn't show up to dinner the day after the girl's meltdown. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. For a consecutive week, the king avoided every possible place that he might see the teen. Instead of going to dinner, he spent the time looking through the girl's private journal. And what he was finding was breaking his heart, little by little.

She was incredibly mature for her age, Eadberht started to slowly realize. There were times when the king felt he was reading the words of someone as old as him, not just a teenage girl. But she was also hurt, and as a result, bitter about the world around her. She felt life was a chess game, and she was the worthless pawn; always being kicked around and never considered a valuable member of the game.

Upon deep reflection, Eadberht found he had to agree with her on that one.

It was almost too sad to see the world through the girl's eyes. Usually, the only words addressed to her in a day were 'how are your studies coming along' and 'good'. Her main tutor hardly ever showed up for her lessons, and when he did, he slept instead of taught. But that hardly mattered to the girl because (as Eadberht found out in horror) she'd stopped showing up to her lessons too, a long time ago.

Time was one of the things that the journal constantly brought up. But not in the form that one may think. No, 'time' usually had to do with some type of experiment. Experiments, however, were nothing without the equations that went with them. Mathematics of all kinds littered almost every page, some dealing with things that not even the king had seen in all his years. Each time she decided to see how two or more things reacted to one another, the girl was meticulous in writing out every detail of what she expected to happen, what was happening, and what happened.

She was nearly professional chemist, with an intelligence level that would put scholars to shame…and Eadberht had always assumed she was simply just another average teen.

The worst of all was the poetry the journal brought to life. Perhaps he phrased that incorrectly. It's not that her poetry in itself was bad; it's how deep the words cut into his very soul. Most of them were sad, underlining the harsh realities of a girl trapped behind impenetrable walls, literally and metaphorically. Each one tore just a little piece of him away, until finally, in place of a beating heart was an empty, open wound.

But the king could not put the journal down. Every small note, every poem, every chemistry experiment, all of it enthralled him. Usually, Eadberht found himself wondering since when the girl could do that, or how this skill had come about. It didn't make sense, but that was the reason why he kept on with the journal. He needed to finally understand just who this girl was, and why she felt the way she did.

And then, after an entire week of having dinner delivered to his study and reading his daughter's journal, Eadberht finally finished looking through it.

It's hard to explain the feelings that ran through him then. Hurt? Yes, plenty of that. Guilt? More so than he'd ever thought possible. But there was something else. Something that made him feel as though he _needed_ to go talk to the estranged girl. Perhaps if she understood his reasoning, then she'd stop hating him. And maybe, just maybe, he could make her stop hating the woman who'd died giving her life.

With that in mind, the king set out for dinner with high hopes…

…only to have them crushed not two minutes later.

"Where is she?" The king asked aloud, staring at the seat where the girl usually sat. Today though, it was empty. The soft sounds of her scratching a pen against paper were completely gone, and for the first time, Eadberht realized just how quiet it was without her.

"She?" Char wondered, pretending not to hear Cinderella's sigh at that.

"Gwendolyn. He means, 'where's Gwendolyn?'." After a short pause in thought, the woman continued. "You know, your sister." Looking over at the seat where the teen usually sat, the blonde beauty could not withhold another sigh from escaping her lips.

Ever since a full week before, neither the king nor the girl had been attending dinner. After letting things cool off for a day, Cinderella had tried to come back in contact with the teenager. She knocked on her door for three days straight, at different times, but she was always greeted with the same response. Stony silence.

It seemed that Gwendolyn knew and could hold a grudge. She hadn't come out of her room since the day of her meltdown, and now the blonde woman was wondering if the girl ever would. And if she didn't…then what was the point in trying to come in contact with her?

"Oh. Right." Uncomfortably, Char cleared his throat. Though he and his wife had since made up, their relationship at the moment felt like it was dangling on a cliff. Any small breeze could tip them over, sending them both into the sharp rocks that lay on the bottom. "She hasn't come to dinner in a week, Father."

"_What_?"

"She locked herself in her room and hasn't come out since what happened." Char explained slowly, almost cautiously to his father. The king, in turn, seemed to turn four different shades at once. Pale in worry, red in anger, green as though he was going to be sick, and then redder in deep rooted annoyance.

"Why did no one _tell_ me?" Eadberht practically yelled, almost jumping up on his seat. Cinderella seemed to be surprised; Char, however, calmly took a bite out of his bread roll.

"We thought you knew." He answered back, shrugging slightly. "Besides father, _you _haven't been coming to dinner either." There was a slightly accusatory tone behind his son's words, and that made Eadberht narrow his eyes at the boy

"I had matters to attend to."

"For a full week?" Both Char and the king whipped their heads in the direction of Cinderella, who had her hands nervously twitching in her lap and her pretty face set in a grimace. "It's not _all_ our fault; you could have easily asked someone where your daughter was. Though, I'm not even sure you really care that much about Gwendolyn."

Eadberht turned a furious shade of even deeper red. He had to really grit his teeth and keep a tight rein on himself to keep from yelling at the young woman.

"How dare you—"

"How dare I what? Tell you the truth?" Cinderella provided, more bark than bite in her tone. She was tired of this charade. She was tired of the king proclaiming his caring attitude towards his daughter, and then treating her like garbage. He either wanted to be a good father to her, or not. He couldn't just stay in the middle, being a horrid father, but secretly wanting to being a caring, doting one.

"I care about her." Eadberht growled in a voice that could have made angels cry. Cinderella, with more spunk in her than ever before, raised her chin and stared the man down with defiant blue eyes.

"If you cared that much, sir, you wouldn't be sitting here right now. You would be on your way to her room, trying to reason with _your _daughter." And just like that, very calmly as etiquette dictated of her, Cinderella placed her napkin back on the table pushed her chair back before standing up.

"Excuse me." The blonde said coolly, though it was hard not to notice the tears in her eyes as she walked away. For a full minute or two all was silent at the dinner table, before Char loudly pushed his plate away from him and buried his face into his hands with a soft groan.

"She's mad. _Again_." The young man mumbled, his words muffled slightly by his hands. Eadberht pulled out of his surprised state (he had never known his daughter-in-law could behave as such) and looked over at his son, eyebrows raised high.

"This has been happening often?" The king wanted to know, perplexed ever so slightly. After all, the couple had only been married two months!

"Since this whole situation with _that girl_ it has." A tone of bitterness overtook Char's voice as he spoke about his younger sister. After all, his marriage had been so smooth, so nice, until _this_ had exploded in his face. With a defeated sigh, Char blearily looked up at his father.

"Cinderella's been so upset about all this. She keeps saying its 'demeaning' and 'cruel' to just ignore the girl…but she doesn't understand. I mean, when Mother…" The words felt stuck in Char's throat; no matter what he did, he could not make them come out. Swallowing deeply, he tried to continue on.

"You wanted nothing to do with Gwendolyn…I _knew_ it was either lose my sister, or lose my father…after awhile, it just became a habit, something that I took advantage of. But everything was fine…" Char trailed off suddenly as he saw his father shake his head, and grimly look down at the table.

"For us, maybe it was fine. But for her…" The king trailed off, grimacing as he could not finish that last sentence. "Charmond, son, do you think I've been a good father—"

"Of course!"

"…to your sister?"

Char blinked, suddenly taken aback. His father, a man known for his violent temper, was staring down at the plate of food in front of him. And for just a few seconds, the crown prince thought he saw a tear or two in his father's eyes.

"I don't know." Char replied with a deep sigh, slumping back into his chair. This was the safest answer he could give; this was the only answer that didn't make him feel like a villain in a child's storybook.

"I don't either." Eadberht replied with a sigh, shaking his head as though he could get rid of all these thoughts. For another moment, silence overtook the dinner table. And then, slowly, Eadberht pushed his chair away from the table, stood up, and headed into the direction of the girl's room.

* * *

><p><strong>Another three chapters guys! This fanfic is well on its way :) I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed last time and I hope you all keep it up! Reviews keep an author's morale up, and when an author is happy, the chapters come out alot quicker. So please keep on reviewing! <strong>

**See you soon! :D **


	10. Chapter 10: Emptiness

It had never been easy for the king to accept help. This goes as far back as when he was a child, barely knee high, and refused to have someone lift him up so that he could see over the counter. Why should he have someone help him, when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, had always been his thought process. But after twenty minutes of walking around completely lost, Eadberht finally had to come to a heartbreaking conclusion.

He had no idea where the girl's room was, and he was going to have to ask for help if he wanted to find it.

Unfortunately, asking for help seemed to be as much a waste of time as walking around the castle aimlessly. Every servant he stopped and asked if they knew where the younger princess's room was would either stare at him blankly, ask who the younger princess was supposed to be, or shrug and say they had no idea. After every time he received one of these answers, Eadberht felt his heart sink a bit more into his chest. Like the teenager's journal had constantly pointed out; he wasn't the only one who didn't realize she was there.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, he was successfully able to find a much older servant who said they'd seen the princess walk towards the north wing every now and then after dinner. While it wasn't the best information to go off of, the king was desperate, so he took it without question. After all, no one else had a better answer for him.

Walking towards the north wing, Eadberht was surprised at how many stairs he had to climb to get to it. He hadn't been to this part of the castle since Char was a young boy scampering about and trying to escape from his nap. But gracious, he didn't remember all these _stairs_ back then!

Finally upon reaching the actual wing (and huffing and puffing in exhaustion), the king was faced with another task; which one of these doors was the girl's room? Wearily, the aging man went through every hallway, at first knocking on the doors, and then simply pushing them open. All the doors lead to the same thing; rooms full of old furniture, portraits, musical instruments, trunks of clothing, clocks, childish games, papers, etc. Basically, the north wing lived up to its nickname; storage.

At the end of his wits, the king decided to try the last door in this wing before giving up for the night. After all, he reasoned he'd spent a good hour searching for where this teenager slept at night. He could try tomorrow anyway; after all, this _was_ his castle. With that in mind, Eadberht reached for the doorknob, turned it on its side, and pushed.

Nothing happened.

Blinking in surprise, the king released the doorknob suddenly and took a step back. Was there something wrong with the lock? No, no, it looked just like every other one in this wing. And if every other one had opened so easily, despite not being used in years, then why should this one be the exception? Perhaps it was just that this door needed a little extra push, something a bit more than the other ones. After all, it _was_ the door at the very end of this wing; it probably hadn't been used even longer than the rest!

With this in mind, Eadberht tried once again to turn the doorknob and open this door with more force. But it didn't budge. So he tried again, exerting all his strength and pushing as hard as he could. But once again, the door refused to allow him entry. Frowning in confusion, the man stepped back a step to figure out another way around this stuck door.

Or…wait.

An idea suddenly manifested in the king's mind. What if this door wasn't really _stuck_? What if…what if it was just locked from the inside? But for it to be locked from the inside…that would mean someone must have gone inside this room, locked the door, and then exited through some magical way not using the door. Or…someone must be inside that door.

But who?

Who would really be inside this room, and lock it for that matter? From the top of his head, Eadberht could think of no one. After all, this wing was practically abandoned. Since it was the oldest wing within the castle, it had less to offer, and therefore was not worth the time redoing it. So hardly anyone came up here, and no one would actually go through the trouble of locking it from the inside just to be a nuisance.

Maybe…just maybe though…there was someone who actually _lived_ in this room. Someone who had taken residence in this room out of necessity. Someone who had nowhere else to sleep at night. Someone like an estranged teenage girl.

"Impossible." Eadberht murmured to himself, trying to shake those thoughts out of his head. Still…there was nothing else that could fit. Either this was the girl's room, or there was a ghost who roamed the castle. Taking in a deep breath, the king steadied himself before knocking on the door.

The answer was complete silence again.

Even when the king pressed his ear against the door, he couldn't hear the slight rustling of bed sheets or the soft steps of a light footed teen. Something was wrong. Either this was the girl's room, or someone was trying to hide something behind that locked door. Neither of the two options were good.

Rearing up again, Eadberht tried to knock once more. And then once more again. And again. And again. And again, until he was pounding at the door in full blown annoyance and anger. However, his fist got tired of pounding against the wood for so long, so he had to take a quick break.

"This isn't working." The king moaned to himself quietly, pushing his hands through what little hair he still owned. So he could now cross out opening the door regularly, knocking, and/or pounding against it. There seemed to be no way to get through this blasted door! Every method he'd tried had failed…every single one—

Wait a tic. He'd tried every single one…except the most obvious of them all! Blast it, why did common sense kick in after one was already in pain? This was the easiest of them all, and he hadn't thought of it till now! How was that possible! It's true what his dear Cassandra used to say about him; though he had great knowledge, he rarely put it to use until it was too late.

All he had to do was pick the lock. It was simple as that. No pounding, no swearing under his breath, no pushing against a non-moving door, nope, none of that. Just taking off one of these cufflinks…using the sharp side to enter into the keyhole…now he if he remembered correctly, one was supposed to move to the left to unlock…

"Ah ha! Got it!" Eadberht cried aloud, feeling like he just conquered the world when he heard the door give a soft _click_. Suddenly remembering that he was a king, and not a child (this revelation rarely occurred when other people were around for some reason), the man straightened up stiffly. He looked down the deserted hallway, half expecting someone to come from behind something and startle him. But no one did. This entire wing was completely desolate.

"Here goes nothing." The king mumbled to himself, taking a deep breath and finally turning the doorknob. This time the door pushed in without hesitation. Steadying himself for whatever may lay in front of him, Eadberht slowly stepped into the girl's room with a pounding heart.

The first thing to hit him about the room was darkness. Not a candle was lit, not a flame burned, nothing. It was almost too eerie for even the king to manage.

Then, reason came into his mind. Though it wasn't too late at night, it was late enough that it was dark outside. Perhaps the girl had turned in early, still upset over her outburst the week prior. Maybe that's why she hadn't heard his banging on the door; yes, that seemed likely enough.

So then why did doubt linger in his mind?

By now, Eadberht's eyes had settled in the darkness. He could see just enough to know that there were a few matches and a candle set next to the bed. For a brief moment, the king wondered why these things weren't on the girl's nightstand, before brushing it off as nothing. After all, who knew what strange habits this teen currently had; after ignoring the girl for so long, it certainly wasn't his place to pass judgment on any of them.

Keeping his hands in front of him so that he could make sure he didn't bump into anything, the king finally made it to the candle. Effortlessly, he lighted the match and place the live flame upon the wax, blinking in surprise as the entire room lighted up with that one glow.

Rubbing his eyes as he adjusted to the now lit up room, Eadberht couldn't help but think at how odd it was that the girl's room would just light up with one candle. He knew most of the royal suites would've required at least four or five for a minimal glow because of their size. So if one candle could do the trick in here, then that just had to mean…

Dropping his hands from his eyes, the king's eyes went wide as he looked around the girl's room.

It was tiny. That was the first thing that hit him. The room had a low ceiling, and the walls felt almost claustrophobic. The room had probably been built hundreds of years before, but due to the fact that it hadn't been remolded in at least two centuries, the insulation wasn't the best. In fact, the room was downright chilly.

Then there was the furniture. Everywhere Eadberht looked, he found that the furniture all had something in common. It was all broken. The wardrobe had a door hanging by its hinges, and another one on the floor next to it. The nightstand (which was missing drawers) had been pushed into far left corner of the room, and right away the king recognized what it was supposed to be; the makeshift laboratory that the girl had mentioned so often in her journal. Then there was the bed frame, which looked like at any moment it would give in and collapse onto the floor. And speaking of beds…why was the girl's bed made?

A wave of sudden panic overtook Eadberht as he realized that the girl was not anywhere in the room. His heart beat like a drum in his chest, and his eyes looked for a sign, any sign, of the girl's whereabouts. Something was not right; an instinct inside him was saying so. Something was wrong, very wrong.

Finally, after what seemed like a century, the king's eyes locked onto a primly folded note on the girl's bed.

"What in the…" Half stumbling to the bed, Eadberht forced himself to sit down on the lumpy mattress, pick the note up between his fingers, and start to read.

To whomever it may concern,

I have left castle and do not plan on returning.

Sincerely,

Gwendolyn

For a very long moment, all Eadberht could do was stare in shock at what he was reading. The note was dated, and mentally the man started to count back the days. His face paled considerably, and without warning he found himself clutching at the thin bed sheets that covered the girl's mattress. He knew since what day she'd been gone. His body started to shake in horror and shock, and without warning the king realized something that would surely haunt him for the rest of his life.

The girl had runaway…and she'd been gone for a week.


	11. Chapter 11: Past Hurts Part One

One week is seven days. Seven days may be split up into smaller variables. For example, two days of the week may seem unbearably long, but the rest may be considerably shortened. Though each day has the same amount of hours, humans are peculiar, and we feel as though things are either longer or shorter for the most absurd reasons.

For Eadberht though, watching another day, then two, then four, then seven slip away so quickly, and yet so slowly, made him feel as though this was a kind of torture that had to be inflicted upon him. As though he couldn't feel worse about the entire situation. As though his world wasn't just crumbling down on top of him. As though the anniversary of his wife's death wasn't coming up. No, this all had to happen to _him_.

Cinderella hadn't bared the news of Gwendolyn's disappearance well. When told what had happened, the woman had an emotional breakdown. The doctor said it was most likely caused by a number of stressors; having to go from scrubbing floors to walking in satin slippers upon them, the overwhelming duties that come with being a princess, her now rocky marriage, and having her friendship with Gwendolyn break off in hatred before it even began. She was put on immediate bed rest for the next few days; Char spent every spare second with her.

Char was very tightlipped about his sister's disappearance. They'd never been close, but somehow, Gwendolyn's presence had always been welcome in Char's life. She'd always been there, and at times it had irked him to no degree, but for the most part, he'd liked having her there. But now she was gone.

And it wasn't just his father's fault; it was his too. Why had he never been a good brother for his sister? She never knew their mother like he had; why had he never taken her aside and told her stories about the woman? Why hadn't he been the example for everyone else to treat her with respect, instead of just taking it for granted that she'd be there?

In his lifetime, he'd done so many good deeds that he'd lost count. Everyone had always applauded him, said it was great what he was doing, and he'd always felt like he was so well-loved by all. However, there was one person who had stood quietly in the background all these years, watching as he received award after award, and never was offered the chance to do the same.

His guilt was eating at him day by day, and _t_hough he'd never admit to it, he was petrified that something terribly wrong had already happened to his sister. And with his marriage on the rocks, it occurred to the prince that his life was like a giant puzzle. Lose one measly piece, and you'll always be incomplete.

The people of the kingdom were more or less surprised that there was indeed a younger princess. Many had believed she'd died along with the queen in childbirth. Others had simply forgotten she even existed. The entire country was hesitant to step in and search for someone they barely knew, or that they didn't even have a good picture of.

Speaking of pictures, it had occurred to Eadberht early on in this search that hardly anyone knew what the girl looked like. So, he'd searched the entire palace from top to bottom, looking for portraits of the girl. He only found a handful of small ones; they'd been put in out of the way places. The most recent one he could find had the girl's face scrunched in hurt, with her mouth slightly agape so one could see that she was missing her two front teeth, and her hair pulled into two high pigtails. She was eight when that portrait had been done. She was now fifteen. Try explaining _that_ to the search parties.

Back to the original train of thoughts though; it was now a full week since the king had discovered the girl's disappearance. He'd barely been eating, barely changed his clothes, barely done a single thing in the past week besides obsess over the girl's disappearance. He went over every angle, every note in her journal, every shred of conversation she'd ever had with him to no avail. He could not pinpoint her whereabouts…and apparently, neither could the search parties.

With the mounting stress of trying to run a kingdom while focusing on the missing girl (and why she'd left), Eadberht was now at his wits end. He nearly tore off a young maid's head when she asked him if he wanted a cup of tea. _That_ had been a major warning sign that he was about to burst.

With the help of his son (and the majority of the castle staff who now feared for their lives), the doctor finally issued the order that the king needed to spend at least _one _night sleeping, unless he wanted to have a complete mental breakdown.

Did Eadberht ever mention how much he hated that idiotic "licensed" quack?

However, after a few (twenty-six) statues and vases were thrown across the king's throne room, he finally did agree to lie down for the first night in a week. He knew it would do no good, and he was going to be mighty furious if news came in and he wasn't there to receive it. But the doctor's order was a doctor's order, and even an agitated king knew when to follow it. Besides, maybe unconsciousness would spare him from this nightmare for just two or three hours at best.

Oh, how he was wrong. The moment he shut his eyes a nightmare far worse than life started to unfold before him.

_My child arrived just the other day__ She came to the world in the usual way  
>But there were things to do, and bills to pay<br>She learned to walk while I was away_

"….and while you were gone, the prince started on his foreign language lessons." Prudence easily filled in the king on what had happened while he'd been away. Everything from politicians to poltergeists, his majesty was kept informed of every detail that had happened in the last two days. He gave a vague nod at the last bit of information; more or less acknowledging that he'd heard it but did not wish to comment.

"Is that all then? What about that fellow, that—a—ah—ahh!" Eadberht felt himself collide with something that was apparently in the middle of his path in the hallway. He stumbled forward two or three steps, before quickly regaining his balance.

"What the devil did I just trip over?" Annoyed greatly, the king turned back towards the hallway. What he saw stopped him from snapping at Prudence to keep the castle in order.

A baby, looking a little under a year old, had her chubby arms spread out on the floor in front of her as she lifted her legs into a standing position. Then she lifted her arms as well, and without even a whimper of pain, toddled towards an open doorway. Her curls bounced with every barefooted step she took, and one of her small arms happily waved about to keep her balance. The other arm dragged a stuffed animal, proving that the toddler knew how to walk already.

Watching the baby walk away, the king suddenly felt the emptiness inside him grow just a bit bigger. He'd been there when Char took his first steps, and he'd been there when the boy latched onto his fingers so that he could walk. But he hadn't been there to see or do that with this baby. Almost as an afterthought as he turned away, the man realized something. There had been a shoe mark on the stuffed animal; that it was what he'd tripped over.

_And she was talking before I knew it and as she grew  
>She said, "I'm gonna be like you, Dad,<br>You know I'm gonna be like you _

"You've got a fine shot, my boy. A mighty fine shot." Eadberht whistled in approval as he watched his son expertly send another perfect arrow to the target. Char, only eleven years of age, grinned at the compliments.

"Thanks, Dad, but do you think it's good enough to win that first place ribbon?" Nervously tugging at the bow, the boy looked up at his father for a confirmation to his thoughts.

"Well, I don't see why not!" Eadberht boomed, his eyes alight with pride at his son's accomplishments. "At this rate son, you'll be winning every contest from here to the ends of—"

"Your majesty!"

"—of the—"

"Your majesty!"

"—I mean, you could—"

"Your majesty!"

"_What_?" Eadberht finally lost his temper, looking down in his impatience at the tiny person who'd been tugging at his pant leg. The six year old girl let her bottom lip tremble for only a moment, before hanging her head and lifting up a drawing.

"I made this fowr you… 'cause when I grow up, I'm wanna be like you." Still having her childish curls hang low along with her head, the girl stated in a soft voice her biggest dream in life. Her dress, more meant for a toddler then a child, squeezed at her tightly, but she didn't complain. Her other dresses were even tinier.

"You know what?" Eadberht asked aloud, and suddenly the girl's head popped back up. The hope in her eyes was almost heartbreaking.

"What?" Gwendolyn's high pitched squeals of excitement couldn't have foretold more. She wasn't a needy child. Though she was a princess, she understood that all princesses had to through hardships in order to marry a handsome prince. Though at this age the thought of marrying anyone (much less a _boy_) was rather icky, she still did dream about one day being as intimidating and strong and wonderful as her father.

"Charmond, do you think you could hit this red blob," here Eadberht pointed to a colored red circle on the middle of the page, "if it was attached to the target?" Char shrugged, studying the thing on the 'drawing' given to his father by his younger sister.

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably. Yes, I think I could do it!" Suddenly pumped with more adrenaline than he'd had before, Char watched as his father grinned proudly at him. "I'll go set it up on the target now!"

Racing away towards his target, Char left behind his father and sister for only a moment, before he was right back and stringing his bow with a determined expression. Eadberht watched his boy intently, trying hard not to let that proud grin get any bigger, so that he would not embarrass his son. Gwendolyn, meanwhile, stared at the both of them, her hazel eyes filling with horror as she suddenly realized what was going to happen.

"Your majesty!"

Silence.

"Your majesty!"

Silence.

"Your maj—"

"Quiet, girl. Can't you see that Charmond is trying to concentrate?" Eadberht growled, not even looking at the child that was tugging on his pant leg.

"But I made that fowr you to keep, not fowr Charmond to shoot it!" Desperate, the girl tried in vain to capture her father's attention. He had to understand that she didn't want that pretty picture destroyed! He'd barely even looked at it, and now he was going to let his son do away with it! That beautiful picture, that she'd taken so long to draw, so long to carefully work up the courage to even tell him that she—

"I think you hit it, son! Great job!"

Upon hearing Eadberht's voice, Gwendolyn suddenly felt everything inside her become crushed. Her hopes, her dreams, her fairytales, everything she'd ever held dear to herself were gone. As she heard her father and brother excitedly talk over what the boy had just accomplished, a thought arose in the young girl's mind. They'd simply forgotten she was there. They'd forgotten that she even existed.

She was…she was a forgotten princess.

_Well, the girl turned ten just the other day  
>She said "Thanks for the doll, Dad, come on let's play. <em>

_Could you make-believe with me?" I said, "Not today,  
>I've got a lot to do." She said "That's okay." <em>

"Here." Begrudgingly, Eadberht handed a new doll to the girl at dinner. Today was the anniversary of his wife's death. It was also the girl's birthday.

He always gave her _a_ gift (as opposed to the mountains of gifts that he gave his son), and usually it was something small and inexpensive. This year was no different. He'd sent someone out at last minute to buy one of those cheap miniature dolls that were sold on street corners.

"Thank you." Gwendolyn answered in a tone softer than the wind. She gave the doll an appraising look, before miserably returning back to her dinner. Her tenth birthday, and since her governess had quit two days prior, no one was celebrating it with her. Even this pathetic doll, with the stitching half gone and stuffing coming out of it, was depressing. Without a governess, it's not like anyone would even want to play with her anyway.

However… maybe…maybe since today was a special day…today she was a full ten years old…maybe she could plead with someone, anyone, to at least do one thing with her. Perhaps even the king himself would understand that since no one had wished her a happy birthday, then she at least deserved for him to play with her. Hmm. It was worth a shot.

"Your majesty," the girl started, gulping as she knew she was going out into foreign territory "would you…would you please play a game with me? We could do whatever you wished; we could even play make-believe!" There was such a desperate tone in the girl's voice that it even made her wince. Still, she would move mountains at the chance to play one game with the king.

"Not today, I've got a lot to do." Eadberht answered, shooting down his one chance to make the girl's day much more meaningful. Of course he was lying; he had nothing to do after dinner. He just didn't feel like spending time with the girl. The child was being selfish. Even if it was _her_ birthday, it was still the anniversary of _his_ wife's death.

"Oh." Gwendolyn felt her rising spirits fall back down. Then, another idea crossed her mind. A more much tangible idea. Perhaps her brother would play with her. "Your highness, would _you_ like to play—"

"Father, I'm going to go to bed. I'm beat." Char abruptly cut his sister off by speaking over her. With a tired grin, he quickly pushed his chair away from the dinner table and headed up to his room.

"I should get to bed too." Eadberht mumbled to himself, pushing his own chair away from the table and disappearing out of the dining room. All that was left behind were the dirty dinner plates, and a ten year old girl clutching a cheap doll.

"That's okay." Gwendolyn said loudly, loud enough that she knew the king could hear it.

Who needed them anyway? She may not have a stack of presents, she may not have even been wished a happy birthday, and she may not even have a cake, but she at least deserved a birthday wish…right?

With a trembling lip, the girl started to push her food together, into a huge pile on the middle of her plate. Placing a celery stick standing upright in the middle of it all, the girl clutched the doll to her chest as she wrapped her arms around herself.

It wasn't a chocolate cake with her name iced onto it, and it wasn't a candle alight with a bright fire for her to blow out, but it was the best she could do. And through her soft, hurt sobs, she sang to herself.

"Happy b-birthday to me, h-happy birthday to me…"

Since he had frozen in place the minute he heard the girl state that everything was fine, the king heard her broken happy birthday sung to herself too. For a moment, Eadberht considered turning back, pretending he hadn't heard any of this, and taking the girl up on her offer to play make-believe. But that was only for a moment. The thought faded and he walked away, hoping that one day the guilt would go away.

_And she walked away and I know she smiled  
>And said "I'm gonna be like him, yeah<br>You know I'm going to be like him."_

"What would you like to be when you grow up?" Eadberht swiveled his head in the direction of the Lord who just asked that question.

It was directed towards the girl, who had only been allowed to attend the banquet because she had no governess any longer to keep an eye on her. Basically, the king was babysitting the child until another woman was hired to do so.

At the head of the table, Eadberht was pretending not to hear any of this particular conversation. Pretending being the key word in that sentence. He knew that out of the entire night, this was the very first question directed towards this girl. He also knew that gossip was flying around the table as to who she was and what she was doing here.

The question of what she would like to be when she grew up wasn't at all as innocent as it seemed either; rather, it was a way for these upper class people to figure out the girl's goals in life, and then determine who she was by them. It was an unnerving game that the king was, again, pretending not to notice.

"When I grow up, I would like to be like his majesty, the king. _Just_ like him." This was said in a voice that sounded thirty rather than thirteen. It immediately caught the wary attention of the king, and he prayed the girl would not say any more. These people may be fooled by her fake smile, but he was not. It made him uneasy.

"Sire," the word were directed towards Eadberht now, and he was forced to acknowledge that he heard it, "may I be excused?" The Lord who had asked the original question had long since given up any interest in the girl; everyone had. Now they were more concerned with who was having one too many glasses of wine.

Eadberht realized why she would like to leave now, in the middle of the dinner party. She was a fish out of water here, and did not like it one bit. It showed every second she'd been forced to stay. The king was many things, but he was not the kind who forced people to do his bidding. That, he knew from his _own_ father, never turned out very well.

So with a nod, he excused the girl from her seat. The child easily slipped out of her chair, and then practically slithered away from the room. She was completely silent in doing so, never drawing attention to her calm, quiet demeanor. But the king swore up and down that as the girl walked away, there was a smug grin upon her features. A far too smug grin for his liking.

* * *

><p><strong>This is part one of a two-part chapter. The song used is called 'Cats and the Cradle'. Sadly I own no part of it, although I do cry whenever I listen to it. For the purpose of this story to make the song fit I messed around with a few of the lyrics. :) <strong>


	12. Chapter 12: Future Hurts Part Two

_Well she came from college just the other day  
>So much like a woman I just had to say,<br>"Hon, I'm proud of you, can you sit for a while?"_

There was a sudden change in him, Eadberht realized. He was older; he could see it in his face. The lines that hadn't been there three years before now were, and oh, they were quite obvious. Why was he suddenly older? What had happened? Who had done this to him? Those questions, the man realized as he looked up, were in vain.

There, standing before him, was the very picture of beauty. A girl of no more than eighteen years stood with one hand poised on her hip. Her body was that of an angel, with soft curves that were accentuated with the light dress she wore. Her long orange hair had been left loose like a child's, and it curled at the ends ever so slightly. For a few seconds, the king swore he was looking at his own wife when he'd first met her. And then he looked at the girl's hazel eyes and realized that this was not his wife.

Oh, no. This was his wife's daughter. This was the girl who carried half of his genes inside of her, though besides the hazel eyes he was sure he hadn't added to her physique at all.

A lump formed in Eadberht throat. There she stood, so calm, so gracious, so gosh darn _pretty_. Somehow, he just _knew_ that she was on break from University, and that she'd been studying hard to acquire knowledge in a field that escaped most scholars; chemistry.

Now that she was home for the break though, the king reasoned he should have the cook make her favorite dish. Her favorite dish being…er…well, who needed food? He'd buy her something nice, some type of beautiful jewel. Now her favorite stones were…um…well, any man could buy her jewelry! He should get her something else, something like…something like…gosh, he couldn't remember a single thing the girl liked.

Maybe getting her something would be in vain though, Eadberht thought. A thoughtful sentiment usually meant more to a woman than any old trinket anyway. And if he told her how proud he made her, studying so hard, and looking just like her mother, that would mean more, right?

"I'm so proud of you." The king blurted the first words in his mind. The girl, in turn, seemed surprised at the compliment. But not the happy kind of surprised. The kind of surprise that went more along the lines of real shock.

"Er…," the girl bit her lip slightly, before bowing her head and dipping into a deep curtsey "thank you, your majesty."

And then there was silence. Awkward silence. It seemed the girl was waiting for something else to happen; her eyes seemed to beg the king to just say _it_. But what was 'it' exactly, for Eadberht certainly didn't know. He had no clue what else to say to the girl.

"Could you sit for awhile?" The king finally asked, feeling awkward that the girl was standing still and he was seated in his throne. But when he saw the girl—no, _woman_—look around, he realized his question was in vain.

There was nowhere for her to sit.

_She shook her head, and she said with a smile  
>"What I'd really like, Dad, is to just go riding<br>See you later, Pierre, follow me please?" _

"Sit, sit! I haven't seen you in over a year!" More lines in his face this time. He was growing older and older, and the duties of being a king were starting to weigh on him. Somehow, Eadberht found himself speaking of another year that had passed.

After the last visit that had been all awkward, the king had promised himself that on the next visit, he'd make the girl feel more welcome than she had in her life. But as the calendar days had turned into weeks, and the months had started to fly by, the king had started to wonder if another visit would ever even happen. And then, out of the blue, the young woman came back.

"I'm so sorry, your majesty," the young woman answered, shaking her head with an enigmatic smile to a person who stood just a little ways next to her "I already made plans to go riding. With Pierre."

The person standing a little ways next to the woman suddenly stepped forward, bowing towards the king, but looking back at her the entire time with an odd, hungry stare. As he straightened up, Eadberht realized _who_ this man was. The young Lord Pierre Cheslove, who had quite the reputation when it came to women.

The gossip surrounding the palace was that he had just left his former lover when he found out she was expecting his child. Another rumor said that whenever he had plans to take a girl's virtue, he would go riding with her. The very last rumor the king knew of was that this young lord had a left a string of broken hearts in his wake, and never once looked back in regret.

"We will see you later, your majesty." Another curtsey and the girl was already turning her back to him. "Pierre? The stables are this way." Interlocking her fingers with his, the king watched was the woman lead the young man towards the stables. Far from the throne room. Very far.

"Wait! Don't go!" Eadberht panicked, shouting now as he jumped to his sore feet. "He's tricking you! He's—He's—", the king stopped himself as he realized two sudden things.

One, the woman could no longer hear his desperate pleas to stop. She was gone alright, and there was nothing he could do about it. Two, he'd been about to say 'he's the kind of man I warned you about' when something had dawned on him.

He'd never warned her about any kind of men. Since he hadn't been around her very much, he'd never gotten the chance to tell her that not all men are kind, and nice. He'd never gotten the chance to tell her that some men only wanted one thing from her.

Slumping into his throne, Eadberht felt everything inside him suddenly become crushed.

He'd just never gotten the chance to tell her.

_I've long since retired, my son's moved away  
>I wrote to her just the other day...<br>I said "I'd like to see you if you don't mind"  
><em>

My dear girl,

It's been a long time since I last saw you. I believe it's been almost fifteen years since you renounced your title and broke off all connection with us, your family. Now, don't ask me how they were able to acquire your address, but I'm glad they did. And I'm quite alarmed as to where you're taking up residence these days. Not to say you're your home isn't probably very nice, it's just I had never imagined one of your upbringing to be living in such a…common area. Although, I do believe you must have a rather good explanation for all this.

Besides that, your brother is proving to be every bit the king I thought he'd be, Cinderella is her ever loving self, and your niece and nephew are quite the handful. There are times when I wonder if those fair-haired children ever stop! Still, they are both wonderful. They call me Papa. My own life is filled with happiness and love, but I can't help but feel there's something missing whenever I think of you. I'm an old man, and I'm not sure how long I'll be around, so I'd like to see you, if you don't mind. Please come soon; we all look forward to your visit.

With a great fondness,

Eadberht

_She said "I'd love to Dad, if I could find the time.  
>You see my new job's a hassle, and the kids have the flu.<br>But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad;  
>It's been sure nice talking to you…"<br>_

Your majesty,

Has it really been fifteen years since I last saw you? It feels shorter. Then again, I haven't been counting the years. Being that I haven't a clue what to say in this letter, I suppose I will just have to start from what has happened since you last saw me.

After I renounced my title, Cheslove immediately left me, with child to boot. Apparently, I was of no use to him if I cut off my ties with the royal family. I had to drop out of University soon after as well; I hadn't any money, and the decision on whether to eat outweighed the option of buying new books. I believe it was the day after the Inn keeper tossed me out that I happened to walk into Robert.

He's something else, sire. He found out I had no place to go, took me to his home, and had his family treat me better than I've ever been treated before. His mother is the sweetest woman I've ever known, and his father immediately thought of me like the daughter he never had. One thing led up to another, and before long he and I were wed.

We have three children. Technically two, but Robert insists that Cheslove's child is his son through and through, even if he isn't biologically responsible for his creation. So yes, three children. The first is Madden, our little man, the second is Blake, our bookworm, and our third is baby Amy.

We have a good life. Robert works with his father in the woodshop, and I help his mother with orders. I would visit if I could, but this being the busy season I'm desperately needed to help out around the shop. Plus, all the children have come down with the flu. And…there's a spider problem at the shop. Big spiders. So I don't believe I will be able to get away for at least a year. Most likely two. Possibly three. Or four.

It's been nice talking you, your majesty,

Gwendolyn

_And as I put down the letter it occurred to me  
>She'd grown up just like me,<br>My girl was just like me... _

Slowly, Eadberht let the letter he'd been reading fall to his lap. The lump in his throat, the guilt in his stomach, the hurt in his heart, everything he'd been holding back for so long suddenly let loose. He found himself sobbing, an old man crying his eyes out like a woman.

He'd caused this. All of this. The girl…she wanted nothing to do with him. She was making pathetic excuses just so that didn't have to come visit him. She wouldn't even use endearing words with him; it was all 'your majesty' or 'sire'. There was no, 'my dear father' or 'Dad', no, from the outside it looked like a strictly business relationship. Because that's all it had been.

Never had he, Eadberht, actually tried to give a hand in raising the girl. It had always been 'I'm busy' or 'I can't right now'.

He hadn't been there for her when she first walked. He hadn't been there for her when she wanted the most menial praise and attention for her artwork. He hadn't been there for her on birthdays, where she was celebrating them alone and with one pathetic present. He hadn't been there for her when she felt uncomfortable, surrounded by people who barely acknowledged her presence. He hadn't been there for her when she'd come home on break from University and needed someone to ask her what she'd been up too. He hadn't been there for her when she met the wrong boy, and for a time had her life turned upside-down because of it. And now that he was finally ready to be there for her, it was too late.

She'd moved on. Had a family. Became someone else's kin. Someone who didn't ignore her. Someone who made her feel like she was special, because gosh darn it, she was. Someone who would always be there for her. Someone who, when she was teetering on that edge, would pull her back and wrap her in a big hug. Someone who would never forget that her past had been rocky, but her future would be there's to shape together. Someone who would…someone who would love her correctly.

And in all his years, with all his age spots and wrinkles and lost hair, Eadberht realized that what he'd done wasn't anything new. His father had done that with him. So had his father's father. And his father's father's father. He'd sworn he wouldn't do the same to his son, and he hadn't. But the girl? Well, if that letter said anything at all, then it said that what he'd done to her deserved much more of a punishment than just her completely extraditing herself from the family.

_And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon  
>Little girl grew into a woman by June<br>When you comin home, Hon, I dont know when,  
>But we'll get together then, Dad<br>We're gonna have a good time then._

Eadberht jerked out of his dream, sweating profusely and swallowing deeply to keep from crying anymore than what he had been doing in his dream. Wrapping his arms around himself, the man looked over at the clock in the room and cursed his luck. He'd only been asleep for two hours. He'd asked for blissful unconsciousness, but what he'd gotten in return was a dream that pointed out what he'd done wrong in raising the girl. Then…oddly enough, it had shown him what the future held.

And that was the scariest part of it all.

* * *

><p><strong>So, another three chapters guys :) I was going to update on Wednesday, but it seemed like everyone really wanted more chapters sooner, so here they are. Keep up threvokes andyou guys may get more chapters sooner! Thx and keep up the reviews! <strong>


	13. Chapter 13: A Furtive Fugitive

"Here," a young man grunted, handing over a stack of hay to his smaller counterpart "use this for the new one's stall. I'll…jeez kid; do you think you could drop that _after_ I turn around?" With piercing green eyes, the young man seemed to look right through the smaller person. Said person felt their mouth go dry.

Nowhere in schoolbooks does it say how to survive when living on the streets, what to do when you have a crush on your boss. Those books filled one's head with knowledge of the academics, but not other things that were just as valuable. Many could read and write, but few could live more than a day on the roughest of streets. Most could never have stood actually 'working' and having to hide their true identity.

After two weeks, Gwendolyn could boast that she could easily do both.

She hadn't planned for this to happen. She hadn't planned on acquiring a job so soon, or falling head over heels for a boy who thought _she_ was a boy. But the girl's plan had to change quickly when she'd realized she'd never packed the most important thing of all; money.

After one bad night in the gutter, the girl was determined to do something so that she could make money and at least rent a room. Unfortunately, there were very little jobs offered to teens with a great academic background. This applied especially to those who were girls.

However, there were quite a few jobs offered to teen boys who were willing to get their hands dirty. Seeing that there were no other options, Gwendolyn did what she had to. She traded her dress for a set of boy clothes, tucked her long hair under a cap, and set off for the first job she found; helping out in the town stables.

This is when the boy of her nonexistent dreams, Trent, comes into play. With light brown hair that constantly fell in his deep green eyes, skin tanned dark from the sun, and only a year above her age, Gwendolyn had felt herself almost burst in surprise. She'd read plenty about what a crush was supposed to be, but had never experienced it until the very moment she met that boy. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Trent.

The young man needed desperate help about the stables, so he'd hired the first person to come around. The work wasn't so easy; mucking out dirty stalls, handling stacks of hay, making Trent annoyed, and watching as her calluses grew daily was no walk in the park. Still, Gwendolyn kept at it, never once bellyaching about her predicament. In fact, she was enjoying this.

She'd never imagined she'd be able to have this kind of freedom in her life. This kind of freedom, where she was able to do as she pleased, was exhilarating. There were so many choices she'd never been given, and now she had them all. And Trent, oh, Trent was…Trent was amazing. Why, he even let her sleep in the hayloft at night, and gave her enough money for food!

Okay, well, maybe the only reason he allowed her to sleep in the hayloft was so that if there were any customers that needed to put up their horses for the night, she could handle it. And maybe the money he gave her for food was just her daily wages that he needed to give to her anyway. But still.

He was sensational, incredible, amazing, wonderful—

"Don't drag that stack or else it'll get dirty; _carry_ it."

—amazingly annoying at times.

"I'm not trying to drag it." The make-believe boy finally grunted in a rough voice that she'd perfected to the T. "But it _is _heavy, Trent."

"I could carry that pathetic stack of hay on my own when I was ten!" Trent answered in an indignant voice.

"Besides," the older boy lowered his voice to almost a whisper "the quicker you get this stack in that stall, and you do it right this time, then we could get the royal guards as loyal customers. And we _need_ the extra business." Grimacing almost to himself as he went off into deep thought, the older boy hardly noticed his employee half dragging the stack of hay to the stall.

"I've been doing it right." Grumbling, 'Wendol' as the girl had so christened herself, was finally able to drag the stack of hay into the sleek horse's stall. Or rather, a sleek royal guard's horse's stall.

A sudden pang hit the teen then, though it was pushed aside just as quickly as it had come. Still, it's not like the thought of taking care of the guard's horse didn't ache within the pretend boy. This was a story of literally riches to rags…but the rags in this case were better than the riches ever could have been.

"We've been gettin' a lot of these royal guards' horses lately." Wendol said aloud, waiting for a response. However, the teen was only given a grunt in reply by Trent. So that's why the person went on. "It's been good for us, business wise I mean, to live so near the castle, what with all these search parties. Hasn't it?"

"Very good business." Trent answered, his words nothing but a loud mumble. Feeling as though this conversation was going nowhere, Wendol decided upon another, more straightforward tactic.

"Trent?" Receiving a grunt in reply from somewhere in the stables, the pretend-boy quickly went on. "When do you think they will find the princ—I mean, that girl?" Still using a rough voice, Wendol quickly cut the cords that held the haystack together and started to spread the hay around the stall.

"Who knows." Trent answered, finishing with his work and easily leaning against the stall door. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke up again. "I feel bad for the king though." Wendol felt her—_him_self stiffen in surprise, before returning to the task at hand.

The soiled hay had been mucked out of the stall earlier, but with business booming now that the royal guards had been sent on a kingdom wide search for the missing younger princess, there hadn't been time to replace it with clean hay. So now, with a horse inside the stall, Wendol was doing it.

"Yeah?"

"You know, word on the street is that he didn't even know the girl was missing 'till a week after she ran away. So that would make it, what, three weeks that she's been gone now?" Looking back, Wendol gave a short nod in confirmation, before warily keeping on with the work.

"Three weeks is a lo-ong time not to know where someone you love is." Trent whistled slightly, trying to add a special touch to how long the princess had been gone. "Poor man has gotta be almost crazy with worry. I know I'd be."

"Who says he ever loved her, though?"

The words slipped out of the teen's mouth before they could be stopped. It was the thing that made the child blush a furious shade of red and focus even harder on the work that lay in front. Without even looking back, the teenager knew that his boss was most likely looking at him like he was crazy.

"What'cha mean, kid?" Trent wondered aloud, leaning forward on the stall door to try and hear an accurate response.

"Well," Wendol finally started, uneasy saying this aloud. "It seems like if it takes a full week for the king to realize that she's missing, then maybe he didn't really even like her a whole lot. And maybe all this search stuff is just for the heck of it, you know? Just so the king can say he tried and he doesn't have to do it ever again."

There was a sudden silence between the two teens. The older one, Trent, stared hard at Wendol's foot, which was currently all that was in view because the horse had blocked off the rest of him. The only sounds made were that of Wendol laying down fresh hay for the animal, wincing at the how loud the silence seemed to be.

"You sound like a girl." Was all Trent answered, with a snort and an eye roll for added affect.

"I _am_ a gir—uh, I mean…" Quickly, Wendol did a good show of trying to clear 'his' throat and return back to his deeper tone of voice. "I mean, I've known a few girls." Wincing again, the teen could have smacked himself for the idiocy just displayed. Thank goodness those words had been cut off midway, otherwise it would be back to embroidering her initials in a handkerchief.

"Ha! Good one!" Trent chortled with laughter, walking away as he saw a new customer start to come through the stable doors. "You're a funny kid, Wendol. Known a few girls; ha!" Chortling to himself still, Trent walked away, before pausing for a moment and turning back towards Wendol with a grin.

"Finish laying down that new hay, and then you can go get us some lunch, alright?" Mischief filled Trent's tone, but he wasn't finished yet. "Maybe on the way you can 'get to know' some other girls. Ha!"

As Trent's footsteps faded away towards the entrance of the stable, Wendol suddenly felt his cheeks turn crimson at the thought that 'his' previous words were being misconstrued to mean something far more inappropriate.


	14. Chapter 14: Something's Fishy

"Who eats fish for lunch?" Wendol grumbled as the teen pushed through a crowd of people to get to the docks. Lately, the teen had realized now that people actually spoke to 'him', shutting oneself up on the inside did little good.

Rolling a set of hazel eyes at this request to fetch lunch (teenage boys and their appetites, the disguised-girl swore), Wendol finally found that having the crowd push 'him' along had been a good thing after all because the docks had suddenly just appeared right here. Alright, so maybe 'just appearing could be contributed to the fact that the teen hadn't been paying much attention to where the docks were (the village was pretty simple to memorize), but still. Give a kid a break, why don't'cha?

Walking alongside the ships to where the tiny stands for selling fish would be, Wendol couldn't help but gaze upwards at the wooden marvels. These ships were just for the fishermen, and even they were huge. Most of them were docked, since it was springtime and the cloudy weather seemed too poor to go out into open water to fish. All lined up together though, it was amazing not to gape at the height the ships had managed to acquire. So tall in the sky, almost as though it was scraping across it. A sky-scraper perhaps?

The thought of the new word made Wendol chuckle. As though something so moronically simple would ever catch on. Normal civilians, contrary to popular aristocratic belief, were not all that stupid. While they didn't the money, they did have a hard-work mentality and street skills that were not to be questioned. And they weren't all peasants either.

As Wendol had found out in the short three weeks out of the castle, the word 'peasant' was hardly even used by these people. 'Peasant' was like an insult to them; it meant someone with a low intelligence, who worked on a farm in the middle of nowhere. None of these people considered themselves such, and would be offended if they heard of someone referring to them like that.

What a shame it was that these people could not hear the king speak when he was with his advisors, or better yet, his crowned prince.

The thought of the king and prince suddenly caused Wendol to stiffen.

No doubt they were both celebrating, having finally rid themselves of the pestilence problem known as the forgotten princess. Perhaps right this moment they were in the king's study, sharing a brandy and laughing about how simple this had all been. Maybe they were even looking through the girl's journal, ridiculing every poem or chemistry experiment documented inside of it.

Not for the first time, Wendol promised to never, ever, _ever_ return to that horrible place known as the teen's former home. No one needed an unwanted teenager there anyway.

"…told ya, I haven't seen or heard a lick 'bout the girl." The gruff voice suddenly pulled Wendol out of those deep, unwanted thoughts. Looking up, the teen saw that the voice belonged to one of the local fishermen, who was leaning against his stand casually.

And he was also speaking to a royal guard.

Not good, Wendol cringed inwardly. For the most part, the teen had managed to avoid these guards altogether. Trent handled the majority of customers, the "special" ones like the guards most especially. And most of the king's men had dismissed the children in the village, thinking that theywouldn't have an inkling about the situation at hand.

Turn around, the teen's mind warned. Just walk away, go buy something else. Tell Trent that all the fish didn't look too fresh. Just walk away, slowly and carefully, yes just like that…now back up a little more …

"Boy! Do you want something?" Damn it all, Wendol cursed inwardly, before silently reprimanding 'his' mind for swearing. Just because one hangs around foul language doesn't mean that one must start to speak it.

"Yes sir," Wendol finally answered, pushing the cap currently in the teen's possession lower to hide…well, anything. "I need two cooked fish, sir." Taking in a deep, calming breath, Wendol tried to reason that there was no need to be afraid. If the king's guards had not caught the princess by now, even when they were staring straight at her, then why would they do so today?

"Two?" The fisherman asked, a bushy bow raising slightly. The royal guardsman next to him studied the boy, having nothing else to do at the moment since his conversation was put on hold. This boy was small for his age, no doubt. And yet, even with that cap pulled down low so that the guard could not see his features…there was something strikingly familiar about this lad…

"One for me, and one for my employer." Wendol explained, in as gruff a tone manageable for someone of the teen's caliber.

"Ooh. Aye, gotcha lad." The fisherman nodded. "Well, you're in luck. The Mrs. got to cooking yesterday, and well, it's the best in the country. Been sellin' out fast, ya know. But I managed to save just two for the right customer."

Smiling a gaped toothed grin, the fisherman held up two floppy looking fish with his bare, grubby hand. "Now, since you look like a good lad, I'll only sell them both to you for six coppers apiece. And ya won't get a fairer deal 'round, no sir, no ya won't."

The guard, while not intervening, studied the boy a lot closer now. Had that been he, well, the fisherman would've been left with "just two for the right customer". Those fish looked like they'd been there for days on end, maybe even a week.

Plus, everyone knew fish from the early spring months were usually poor in flavor. For goodness sake, they weren't even _scaled_, much less cooked! The entire world could see that! So then why was this boy looking as though he was putting a deep consideration into buying those fish for that outrageous price?

"Eight coppers flat and you've got a deal." Wendol finally answered, after putting much consideration into this choice.

The fish didn't look very well, but then again. The teen had never been in a position to buy fresh meat from a local market (it was amazing how one could survive only on fruits and the "meat" Trent liked to buy). Most likely, the freshest of fish looked the worst, because they were the best. Or something like that. Again, Wendol had never done much within a marketplace before.

"I'll take it." The fisherman grinned, grabbing the money and wrapping up the fish in return before handing it over. Wendol gave a nod as thanks, though the cap was pulled so low over 'his' head that it was hardly noticeable.

"Nice doin' business with ya lad. Come back any time!" Chuckling to himself, the fisherman turned back around to the guard as Wendol rolled a hazel pair of eyes hidden beneath that cap. Turning on a heel, the teen started to walk away, back towards the stables, back towards the work that had been left behind—

WHOOSH!

Being so close the sea, Wendol hadn't taken into account that the wind was a lot stronger here.

A lot. Stronger.

The breeze blew away the teen's cap, letting locks of wavy orange hair tumble out in its place. For a few seconds, all the teenager could do was stand stock still, shocked and numbed, while running a hand through that long hair.

And then instinct kicked in and said to start running.

_Now. _


	15. Chapter 15: In the Name of the Crown

"Now what's this?" A low whistle sounded in Wendol's ear as the teenager was pulled back by an arm before even _trying_ to runaway. Needless to say, in this process, the fish fell to the ground.

_Aw, Trent is gonna kill me!_

"A lass in lad's clothes…" The fisherman mused, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he found Wendol start to twist in his grasp.

"A lass? I'm no lass! I'm almost a man!" Deepening the regular gruff tone even more, Wendol desperately tried to fight back the urge to scream. But screaming is unladylike, pointed out the voice in the teen's mind that nearly caused 'him' to lose it right there.

"Are you then? You wanna prove it?" The fisherman, with that wicked gleam in his eye, asked of the teenager. This would make for an _excellent _exaggeration for the boys down at the pub.

"I…I…" Caught in between a rock and a hard place (and feeling the stares of both the royal guard and the fisherman) Wendol had no choice. There was only one option. "I can't. I'm a girl." Despairing for only a brief second, the girl suddenly perked back up and stared the fisherman straight in the eyes.

"But there ain't no law that says I can't dress like a boy." Scowling fiercely, and momentarily catching the fisherman off guard, Gwendolyn ripped her arm away from the man's tight grasp. But she only had enough time to grab up her cap before she was caught by someone again.

"You look…familiar." The royal guard said in a musing voice, his brows scrunched up in deep concentration. Gwendolyn put on an even mightier scowl, narrowing her eyes so much that they became like slits.

"I wasn't aware you could detain someone for familiarity."

Before the words even left her mouth, Gwendolyn knew that they were the wrong idea. Stupid, she chastised herself; she had to keep her extensive knowledge toned down. It was the only way to keep from being caught. Now look at what she'd done! The fisherman, a man of little schooling, had taken an immediate step back, surprised big vocabulary used by such a meaningless girl.

"I can't." The guardsman sighed, feeling outsmarted by a simple teen. He paid little heed to her vocabulary; he was more concerned why he was having an immense feeling of déjà vu, why did this girl look so familiar, while there were hundreds of others in the village that simply passed in a blur.

"But I just…" Was it her hair? To be one with waves of carrot colored locks _was _odd, but that wasn't it. Her boyish clothing? No…that was odd as well, but not quite it. Her eyes, her body language, her expressions? No, no, and definitely no. The guardsman could not figure it out, as though this girl was a puzzle. He knew he had all the pieces, but nothing was complete until he had the last one.

"I'll be letting go now." The guardsman finally said after a long pause and look over. His tone, however, was like a warning towards the teen. It was as though he was silently saying, 'I'll be keeping a closer watch on you'.

"Yes sir."

Realization suddenly hit the guardsman like a ton of bricks.

Of _course_! How could he have been so blind? He'd been getting yelled at for the past three weeks because of that minor mistake caused by this girl! He'd played that memory over and over in his mind, capturing the seconds where he'd spoken to her, she'd answered meekly, and then slipped away because _he_ pushed open that gate. Now all he had to do was easily…wait…where did she go?

"You! Halt in the name of the crown!"

_Not as long as I wear it!_

Somewhere in the midst of the guardsman's epiphany, Gwendolyn had felt his grip slacken with shock. She'd taken the opportunity and had started to run. Her boots slapped the snowy wood beneath her hard, fast, and…oh no!

In the midst of all her running, Gwendolyn had neglected to take into account that there were only two ways to come out of the docks. One way was by land, which she could not do at the moment because of a wrong turn at the last ship, or…the water. There were just two teensy problems with the latter; one, Gwendolyn did not know how to swim and two…the sound someone else's boots gaining on her made it kind of impossible to turn back without being caught.

And so, with the end of the docks in sight, Gwendolyn did what any self-respecting-forgotten-princess would do; she geared herself up, held her breath, and jumped.

The water was not only colder than she'd expected, but not as easy to maneuver in too. It was as though tiny daggers cut across her skin all at once, piercing her with their sharp pointed tips. Actually…that didn't seem to be the water anymore. The pain felt more than just so cold it hurt…it felt like actual _pain_.

Twisting her body around, for a split second Gwendolyn caught sight of the large gash on the underbelly of her right arm. It took a split second for the girl to realize what must have caused it; when she'd jumped, she hadn't accounted for scraping against the underwater poles that held the structure up…and that also had many, many, sharp mussels gathered upon it.

Running out of air and starting to panic because of her gash, Gwendolyn twisted her body this way and that in the water. Frantically, she waved her arms about, desperately trying to reach the surface. It was right there, close enough for her blurry vision to make out…but the icy water wasn't allowing her the free movement necessary to get to it! Her air supply was now dangerously low now; she was going to _drown_! She was going to be dead, and she was only fifteen!

Half delirious without oxygen, faces started to flash before Gwendolyn's dimming eyesight. Her brother, the crown prince, with a boyish smile even at this stage of manhood. He'd always been the type of person to smile, and though as a toddler she must have gotten into his things more than once, he never once had pushed her away from the toy she been putting in her mouth. He'd only smiled and looked the other way as he run off to whatever. .

And the king, the man who was supposedly her father…he hadn't been a very good person towards her, but he was still the only one who would get her birthday gifts. Even if was a cheap doll, or badly chipped figurine, he'd still been the only person to remember the date of her birth. And while Gwendolyn knew he blamed her for his wife's death…he'd never actually come out and said it, which, in the girl's mind, made him something like a hero. Sort of.

Closing her eyes tightly, Gwendolyn prepared to drown.

_Well, at least it can be said I died trying something new. _

"Gotcha!" A voice shouted in Gwendolyn's ear as she felt herself being roughly dragged up towards the dry dock again. It took a few coughs, many blinks, and plenty of shivers for the girl to realize what was going on.

She was _alive!_

"In the name of crown, and by the orders of the king, I am to escort you straight to the palace at once, _Princess_ Gwendolyn."

…and had been captured.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, another three chapters. I would have updated sooner, but life just got me so tired that I couldn't do so. <strong>

**Anyway, please review! :) **


	16. Chapter 16: Truthful Tears

"_Eadberht…" _A soft voice called out the king's name, and on instinct the man turned around to see who had done so. But there was no one there. Absolutely no one was there.

Perhaps he'd heard it, the man considered to himself. Yes, that seemed plausible. With a lack of sleep and such, it was probable that this was all in his mind. After all, he hadn't been getting enough rest lately, so caught up in his worry that—

_"Eadberht…"_

There it was again! Blast it, where was that voice coming from, and why was it calling him? On another note, why was it calling him like _that_? What on earth was going on?

_"Eadberht, you idiot, look at me." _That sharp, impatient tone made the king snap and turn around in the opposite direction. He suddenly knew that voice, and that tone. After all, it'd been used on him so many times…

_"Cassandra…?" _Suddenly more breathless than ever, Eadberht felt his heart nearly stop beating in his chest.

There, standing in all her beauty, was his late wife.

She didn't look like she had when he'd last seen her; she looked more like the young woman he'd known before she'd had children. Her carrot locks were left loose, and she looked ever so beautiful in that lavender gown she'd often remarked was her favorite. Her green eyes remained unchanged as well, still sparkling with the promise and hope of tomorrow. Most of all though, if Eadberht had to choose a part of her that he loved and missed the most, it was that mischievous crooked smile.

_"I _must_ be dreaming…you're…you're not really here…"_

It couldn't be real. It just…it was too perfect. To have his deceased wife stand in front of him like it was all fine…he had to be really knocked out. Perhaps that "licensed" idiot of a doctor had finally been convinced by Char to spike the king's drinks with some type of sleeping medication…

_"Oh, no? Well then, I suppose I will have to prove it."_

Cassandra's beautiful voice rippled out, though it was tainted by an almost angry quality that the king chose to ignore. He watched as she advanced to him, her lips puckered out ever so slightly. She was a great deal taller than him, so the man had to stand on his tip-toes to lean into the most-certain kiss. He'd forgotten just how stunning, vivid, striking, dazzling, wonderfully—

SLAP!

…hard she could _hit_.

Pressing a hand to his now throbbing cheek, Eadberht looked up in shock at the woman. Her nostrils flared out in fury, and her eyes had narrowed into deadly slits. The king gulped. He'd also forgotten just how murderous Cassandra could look when she was furious.

"_Wh…What just happened?" _Rubbing his sore cheek, Eadberht looked up at his wife with a multitude of expressions. Most of them included confusion and hurt.

"_Why don't_ you _tell_ me_?" _Cassandra's icy voice could have scratched diamonds. Oh, whatever he'd done, Eadberht knew that he was going to get it from his late wife…or rather, un-late wife.

_"Cassandra, I don't know what you're talking about!"_ Panicked and frustrated, Eadberht hoped his desperate plea would invoke pity within the woman. But if anything, it seemed to cause more rage from her. And people said _he_ had a horrible temper.

_"I'm talking about _your_ daughter. _Our_ daughter. Gwendolyn." _The anger within Cassandra suddenly took a turn. Her voice cracked ever so slightly on the name of the daughter she never got to know, and within moments her eyes had filled with tears. She stared at Eadberht, her eyes so filled with pain that he felt compelled to look back.

_"You made Char into the kind of man that everyone admires." _Here a single tear fell down the length of Cassandra's face, its path as heartbreaking as the look on her face. _"But did you ever love Gwendolyn?"_

The words felt like another slap to the face. Eadberht jerked violently backwards, stumbling on his feet. Not this question again. And please, not from the one person that had once been his entire world.

_"Of course I love her." _The man replied softly, hoping that the woman in front of him would just leave the subject at that. After all, everyone else had just accepted his word as truth. Everyone had assumed that he would never be able to lie about such a thing. Except the one person to whom this mattered the most at the moment.

_"Then say it." _The man opened his mouth to cut in quickly, but was cut off when Cassandra held a hand up. _"Please, just listen."_ That caused Eadberht to shut his jaw and keep his eyes solely upon the carrot-haired woman. _"I want you to repeat what you just said, but this time, say our daughter's name. Instead of 'her' say 'Gwendolyn'."_

That was an odd request, Eadberht thought to himself. Still, the pleading look set upon Cassandra's face made him want to comply with it immediately. After all, the sooner the better, right?

_"If that's what you wish."_ Giving a light shrug despite his pounding heart, Eadberht braced himself. _"Of course I love Gwe…ahem, I mean, I love Gwe…er, I love Gwe—I _can't _do it, alright? I simply _can't_!" _

Feeling like a complete idiot, Eadberht raked his hands through what was left of his hair. He felt a sob come through his mouth, and only seconds later his vision had been blurred with tears. Without even thinking about it, he felt himself sinking into a chair that had not been there before. His hands covered his face for only the briefest of seconds before they raked through his hair once again.

_"I tried, I really did. I tried to be there for her. I tried to love her. I even convinced myself that I truly did! But every time I look at her…I see you, Cassandra, good God, all I see is you! And it's isn't right, and it isn't fair, but I can't help it!"_ Suddenly feeling like a dam that had just been opened, Eadberht felt himself finally saying all that was inside.

_"We were supposed to raise her together, you _and_ me, but _you _weren't there and I…I wasn't strong enough, alright? I couldn't do it; I couldn't raise what should have been _ours_ with only _me_! She hates me, she hates you because of me…and I just don't know what to do anymore. I'm sorry, Cassandra; I tried, and hoped, and wished…but I just wasn't able to. I just wasn't able to love her right." _

Finally, the words that he had so dreaded to say aloud to anyone were spoken. His biggest failure, his worst screw up, the thing that kept him up at nights, tossing and turning…it was finally out. And Eadberht felt…relieved? Scared? Embarrassed? Horrid? He couldn't tell. All his emotions were mixing as one and pouring through his eyes.

_"Oh, Eadberht." _Cassandra's pitying voice sounded through his ears, making the man cringe but not say a word. Anyone else would have had a vase thrown at them for pitying him by now. But not his Cassandra. No, never his sweet wife.

_"She's still ours, Eadberht. She will always be ours. We created her, together, out of pure love. And that love can never go away."_ Eadberht felt Cassandra's warm hands wiping away his tears, as though he was a child and she was a mother consoling him.

_"Well, then something is wrong with me, because I could have sworn that the love I had for her left after you died and all I could see in her was you." _Bitterly, Eadberht wiped off the last of his tears, pulling away from Cassandra in the process of doing so.

_"But Eadberht, darling, I am not Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn, no matter what she looks like, is not me. She is_ our _daughter for a reason. And I love every piece of her because of that."_ Cassandra reminded in a soft tone, her look of fierce devotion making the man sitting in front of her nearly ill.

"_How, Cassandra, how can you love her if she's a part of me as well?"_ Eadberht wondered in a tight tone. Easily, he slipped out of the chair and onto the floor; so that he could take his late wife's hands in his own and look within her green eyes. _"Dear, I killed you."_

SLAP!

_"Don't you _**ever** _say that again!" _Cassandra screeched in a voice that could have made buzzards wince. Eadberht rubbed his sore cheek again, mumbling low to himself how he hadn't thought that this would happen if he ever saw his wife again.

_"But it was my fault."_ Eadberht mumbled lowly, hanging his head and still rubbing this sore cheek. _"I was the one who pushed the limit when it came to our "safe" days. I was the one who didn't think or plan ahead for the night she was born. I was the one who didn't get the doctor quick enough to save you. It was my fault you died."_ It seemed like a truth serum had been injected into him, because suddenly Eadberht was telling everything he'd kept inside so long.

_"Eadberht, you fool, I was going to die anyway."_ Cassandra's snort brought her late husband back to the present, where he stared at her in surprise.

_"Do you honestly think it would have made a difference if I had survived the night we had our daughter, or not? Maybe it would have been pneumonia two months down the road, or an accidental slip on the staircase, but somehow, someway, I would not have grown old with you. It was never in the fates design."_ Shrugging lightly, Cassandra gave a bittersweet smile as she allowed her head to rest upon Eadberht's stunned shoulder.

_"H-How…how do you know that?"_ Gulping, Eadberht stared at the woman as though she'd grown an extra head. She had to be joking. There was no way that this was true! He knew what he'd done; he'd lived with the regret all these years!

_"Remind me to tell you someday."_ That was all that was answered to the previous question. Eadberht blinked, about to open his mouth to question why, before thought better of it. There were something's he was better off not knowing.

_"Now,"_ Cassandra started, sitting up so that she could look in Eadberht's eyes once more. _"here's what is going to happen. Our daughter will be found, and you will love her properly this time."_ All playfulness gone now, Cassandra's expression grew quite serious

_"Please, Eadberht. I know you have it in you, and I know, despite everything you've ever said or convinced yourself of, that you _do_ love our daughter. There isn't much time left; she needs…_Gwendolyn_ needs for you to be there for her, or else…"_ The pleading, almost begging tone caught Eadberht off guard.

What was it that she knew that he didn't about Gwendolyn's future? Well, his mind offered, if she had to use a tone like that, then it must be pretty bad. He couldn't let that happen. Not for the world. Not for Cassandra. Not for his daughter.

_"I'll do my best."_ The best answer Eadberht could use was this, and it seemed to satisfy his late wife, at least for the time being. She nodded in confirmation, before carrying on.

_"Also…if you do get the chance, my dear, could you tell Charmond how proud I am of him? For everything. He grew into such a wonderful man."_ As though just remembering something, Eadberht watched as Cassandra's eyes lit up brightly. _"Oh! And also tell him that I like that Cinderella of his quite a bit."_

_"I'll pass along the message."_ Eadberht laughed, but there was a hollow feel to it. He could almost sense it, that time was running out. He knew that soon the world would return to its normal state, and this vision of delirium, or this dream, or whatever it was, would end. _"What else?"_

_"Well…if you can…would you mind terribly telling Gwendolyn how much I love her? And how sorry I am that I couldn't be there to see her grow into such a beautiful, and intelligent young woman."_

That, Eadberht thought to himself, was going to be trickier than anything. Still, that glazed look in Cassandra's eyes as she stared into space told him that this needed to happen. Besides, if anything, the girl's opinion of her mother could use a good change.

_"I'll be sure to."_ Eadberht said softly, bittersweet himself now as he realized there was only one more person whom Cassandra would have something to say too. And then after that, all this would be gone.

_"Cassandra?"_ Ah, the sweet sound of her name.

_"Yes, darling?"_

_"I have to go now, don't I?"_ Deflated and heart filled with dread, Eadberht knew that it was wise to call it quits while he was ahead. And it seemed, from the strained smile given to him by his late wife that she knew too.

_"You do."_ Cassandra's voice said, with no small amount of wistfulness in it. Wistfulness for what? Eadberht didn't know. He supposed he would have to ask her about it one day.

_"I love you."_ Eadberht confessed, trying to keep back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He wouldn't be able to say those words to her again for a long time; that much he knew.

_"I love you too."_ And with that, Cassandra leaned in and pressed her lips upon his. He allowed it, letting the soft, sweet moment last for as long as it could. Her warmth felt so real, so alive, so right there…

"Your majesty! They found her! They found Princess Gwendolyn!"

A loud voice jerked Eadberht awake, causing him to startle so bad that he fell back in his chair. The pounding of footsteps outside the study was growing louder and louder, as was the pounding on the study door.

For a moment, all the king was able to do was rub his lips lightly, before he realized that he would have to open the study door and question whomever that idiot who was running about like a mad person where, how, , and what was the official word on his daughter. But that could wait ten-odd seconds. What couldn't wait was the other realization that whatever had just happened with Cassandra and he, had been a part of a dream.

At least I'm not delusional, the king thought to himself for a second, before racing towards the study doors.


	17. Chapter 17: Betrayal

Life had an interesting way of twisting the most horrifying situations into the most embarrassing ones, or so Gwendolyn was finding.

_Maybe I would have attracted less attention if I'd gone parading in my underwear._

Crowds of people had lined up on either side of the road, staring at the slow procession that was making its way to the castle. Even from the middle of the road, Gwendolyn could hear the kingdom starting to whisper about the princess.

_Well, at least their finally noticing me. That's a good sign. _

Currently, Gwendolyn was watching the snow encrusted cobblestones of the street disappear farther and farther from her view. She was being carried over a guard's shoulder, with two other guards on either side, while her hands and feet were bound up with rope.

Her teeth chattered as a strong spring wind blew by; the teen wished she could have her hands rub her arms once again. But then she remembered the main reasons why her hands had to be tied behind her in the first place; she'd tried to escape twice, and no one was willing to risk a third.

When her plans to escape had all but fallen through, the teenager had decided upon a new plan of action; not to move a muscle. She wasn't going to go back willingly, that was for sure. But again, the guards had been a step ahead of her and simply carried her back by force.

Those two previous plans had now led to this, what Gwendolyn was referring to affectionately as Plan C (Last Ditch Effort). The teenager was currently wailing, screaming, swearing, and threatening up a storm from her position over the guard's shoulder.

That's why her ankles had to be tied together too. She'd nearly taken the head off of the last guard who'd tried to carry her with some pretty forceful kicking. That's also why the crowd had gathered; it wasn't everyday you saw a public meltdown of a princess.

"You're all good-for-nothing, two-bit, sons of—"

_That_ current string of profanity Gwendolyn hadn't needed to pick up from the streets. After all, she'd heard the king say it all more than once. The guardsman who had her thrown over his shoulder simply gripped at her even tighter.

_Great. Now I can't even squirm._

"Put me down you lousy—" Preparing to go on again in another rant, Gwendolyn suddenly cut herself off when she caught sight of a pair of green eyes.

Deep green eyes that stood out from the whispering, gathered crowd. Those eyes that were one in a million; that pair of eyes that could melt a girl's heart with just one look. Gwendolyn knew those eyes.

"Trent..."

The girl found her lips mouthing his name silently, suddenly unable to speak. He was just standing there, his expression dumbfounded. His jaw hung low, and the moment his eyes locked eyes with hers, for that split second, the world stood still. And then that split second ended.

Recognition flickered in his eyes suddenly, as though he was putting two and two together. And then his face started to cloud with an emotion Gwendolyn had seen before, but could not for the life of her, place at the moment. A hard look overtook his sun-tanned features, and his jaw locked in an angry fashion. Without another glance in her direction, he turned his head to the side, breaking off their eye contact, and disappeared back into the crowd.

It was at that moment that Gwendolyn realized what on earth she'd been seeing on his features. How could she have not made out that emotion immediately? It was so obvious. It was betrayal.

"PUT ME DOWN!"

Suddenly filled with a white hot rage, Gwendolyn could not contain herself any longer. Screams started to rip through her throat at an alarming rate, and she could do nothing but let it happen. She struggled like she had not before; she kicked, she head butted, she bit the guard's ear till she drew blood, and she swore so horribly that sailors would have blushed.

By the time the castle gates were standing upon them, it was nearly sundown and Gwendolyn's screams had dissolved into hiccupping sobs. Her futile attempts at struggling hadn't worked, and after awhile they had diminished by a landslide amount.

After what seemed like ages, the girl was taken off of the guard's shoulder and not-so-gently placed on her still bound feet. One of her boots was missing.

Though still sniffling from what was probably a bad cold she'd caught, and trying hard not the chatter her teeth, Gwendolyn somehow managed to keep her head low. In this way, she could at least scowl fiercely at the marble flooring of this gigantic room.

A lengthy silence started to ensue, saying more about each person in the room than they could say about each other. Finally, after an awkward two minutes had gone by, someone on the other side of the room cleared their throat.

"Will someone please explain to me why the girl is soaking wet and has her hands and feet bound?"

The king's voice spoke aloud, strong, confident…and, perhaps Gwendolyn was imagining it but…it sounded just a teensy bit angry. He was probably afraid that she was damaged goods, the teenager thought snidely to herself. Pretending to be very submissive about this whole deal, Gwendolyn lowered her head even farther.

"She tried escaping by jumping into the harbor, your majesty. And then when we fished her out of it, she tried to run again. We did what we needed to do to bring the princess back, as per your request, sire."

A guard—the one who had first figured out it was her?—bravely spoke up, though his voice held a hint of unease. The king made a noise in the back of his throat, as though he was mulling this piece of information over.

"That's funny; I don't think I ever _requested_ or _needed_ for you to parade her through the streets like a criminal." The king finally said, his words having more of a bite to them than anything else Gwendolyn had ever heard.

Speaking of heard…doth her ears deceive her? Did the king really just…did he really just stand up for her?

"Uh well…um…sorry, sire." Another guard answered, since the first one completely shut his mouth at this point.

"It was poor judgment." The third guard mumbled as he quickly cut away the rope that bound both Gwendolyn's hands and feet. Though, he replaced the rope with a tight grip on the back of her shirt.

The girl could have snorted in disbelief. Did this man really believe she would attempt to run? With her shivering, she'd probably not make it more than three steps.

"You're damn right it was poor judgment." The king snapped again, his voice having a raw edge to it now.

Gwendolyn felt her worry shoot up. There was something going on with the king and how he was acting with things concerning her. Something was up, and the teen did not like it one bit. There was no telling what ulterior motive the king had for doing this.

"It won't happen again, your highness." The first guard mumbled. No doubt the poor soldier had thought he'd be rewarded for bringing the princess back; instead, he was having a chew-out.

"We'll take our leave now, sire."

Without hesitation, the third guard gave a deep bow towards his monarch, followed by his friends, before quickly exiting the room with the others on his heels. For a brief moment, Gwendolyn could have sworn there was a fleeting glance of worry directed towards her from one of them, though it was probably just a trick of her imagination.

And then there were two.

"So," Eadberht finally started after another lengthy silence, easing himself out of his throne and walking towards the girl. Gwendolyn showed absolutely no signs of even hearing the king speak aloud.

"You probably wish to have a hot bath." The king finished lamely, finding no other words in his vocabulary at the moment. After all, what was he supposed to say? The girl was soaked to the bone, wearing clothes meant for a boy, she smelled like a barn, and he hadn't seen her in almost a month.

"Your majesty, may I be blunt?" Gwendolyn's soft voice inquired, the first words she'd spoken since she'd been forced back here. For a brief flash of a moment, the girl started to feel panic rise up within her.

She could feel it; she could feel herself slipping back into the old, forgotten princess that had long since given up on trying. Would staying here, even for a few hours, make her become what she'd hoped to leave behind weeks ago?

_I fought so hard for this; I _can't _give up now! I _have_ to be strong!_

"Uh…yes, yes, be as blunt as you wish!"

Gwendolyn sucked in a deep breath, lifted her head, and looked her king straight in the eye without a sliver of hesitation.

"I still hate you."

And then, smartly, the girl turned on her heels and calmly walked away in the direction of the North wing.


	18. Chapter 18: Let Me Go

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Cinderella paused for a moment, letting the sound reverberate off of the cold walls, before gently setting her hand over her pounding heart. Moments ago she'd nearly sprinted towards this room, her mind not fully functioning as to what she would do or say.

Now though, as it was all becoming a reality, she felt…she felt scared. Her knees were trembling oh so slightly, and her hands were starting to shake in fear as to what would come next. She hadn't a clue if this would end badly or not; she just knew she had to do _something_.

Next to the woman, she heard the distinct sound of a foot tapping against the carpeted hallway. Giving a sidelong glance, she saw Char busily turning his head this way and that, avoiding at all costs looking at the door in front of him. Even after being married for such a short time period, Cinderella knew that he was doing this out of a nervous habit.

The only reason he'd come in the first place was because she'd run out so quickly upon hearing the news, and he wasn't about to watch her go through another emotional breakdown. Besides, deep down, she knew that he felt horrid about this entire situation. Maybe this was his way of making it up.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOC—

Very slowly, the door started to open. However, it was only open just enough for Cinderella to make out a hazel eye staring at her from the other side. Before the woman could even say a word, the hazel eye widened and flashed with something that looked like anger. In a split second, the door started to shut once again, but not before a hand stopped it from doing so.

There was a brief struggle for all of two minutes, with the person behind the door pushing against it with all their might to make it shut, and Char simply pushed against it in the opposite direction with only one hand. Cinderella suddenly found her voice lost to her; she was also finding that her courage to come here was waning as well.

"Would you _please_ leave me alone?" Sharply, Gwendolyn spat out the sentence the moment she realized that to keep trying to close her door would do no good. The prince was a lot stronger than she was.

"That depends." Char grunted, finally managing to push the door all the way open.

"Depends? Depends on _what_?" Trying to make herself seem as threatening as possible, Gwendolyn stood in the doorway of her room, arms crossed tightly against her chest and eyes screaming bloody murder.

"Do you…" Here Char hesitated, as though weighing out every single word. "Do you really hate me?"

Silence suddenly filled the corridor. Cinderella hardly drew a breath, afraid that the sound may be too loud. The blonde woman watched as brother and sister stared at each other, mirroring each other's grimaced pain. And suddenly, the woman felt as though _she_ was the outsider here, intruding upon a very private moment.

Gwendolyn's heavy sigh quickly broke through the veil of unease. Turning her body away from the couple in front of her, she started to mumble under her breath before pushing open her door.

"You may as well bloody come in if you aren't going to leave me in peace." Stalking inside her room, Gwendolyn continued to do what she had been doing before, paying little heed to the two people who were nervously looking at one another in the doorway.

It was Cinderella who finally stepped forward. It was Cinderella who grabbed her husband's hand and yanked him into the room as well. It was Cinderella that put a finger to lips when she saw that Char was going to comment on how the room looked like a hurricane and blown through it. And it was Cinderella who finally broke the uneasy silence between all three people.

"I'm so glad you're alright; we were all so worried." The Crown Prince's wife's light footsteps raced across the flooring, each step bringing her closer to the teen. But at the last second, said teen whirled around with such deep skepticism in her face that Cinderella forced herself to brake.

_What on earth is the woman going on about now? _

"Is that why it took the lot of you a week to figure out that I was gone? Because you were _worrying _so much?" There was such sarcastic venom in the teen's voice that it made Cinderella wince.

"Or maybe," Gwendolyn continued, emphasizing each word, "no one noticed my absence because you were all too busy looking through and laughing at _my_ journal."

Giving an even glare in the direction of both Char and Cinderella, who must have been meant for the theatre judging by those puzzled expressions on their faces (as if they didn't know what she was talking about), the girl picked up the small bag lying on her bed and draped it across her body.

"…your journal?" Cinderella finally asked aloud, a short nod coming from the back of the teen's head giving her the answer. Hesitantly, the woman continued. "Gwendolyn…no one has even _seen_ your journal since…since that night."

Those words suddenly caused the teen to freeze. Her fingers stayed where they were, and for the longest minute, the girl didn't even breathe. Her hazel eyes stayed locked with Cinderella's concerned blue ones, and for a few standstill seconds in time, there only seemed to be those two young ladies within the room.

"It doesn't matter anyhow." Gwendolyn said suddenly, breaking her gaze off of her brother's wife and throwing her shoulders back in determination. But her voice sounded strained, even in her ears. Her resolve was starting to wave.

_Their words may be nice now, but don't forget how much it hurt when they looked the other way._

"I'm leaving. Again." The straining sounds were even more evident in her voice this time. "I promised myself—in my dreams—that I would never return to this place; I would never betray someone by telling another about their dreams."

Eyes hardening as anger flew through her body, Gwendolyn looked back up at Cinderella, who now had her gaze trained to the ground. Good. At least the woman knew what the teen meant.

"You're running away?" Char repeated, almost dumbly in a stupefied voice.

"'Running away' implies that I have something to run from, as in a home, a family, friends…Since I am currently in possession of none of that, I am simply leaving, your highness." Clearing her throat, which felt uncharacteristically tight at the moment, Gwendolyn rose to her full height.

Char felt his own throat grow tight. When had the girl grown so tall? She was almost an inch beneath his wife's height. Had she stretched out so much, in the three weeks he hadn't seen her? Did she look taller now because of the fact he was paying more attention to this sort of thing? Or was it just the fact that her dress, which looked more like nursery clothing on her, always appealed to the allusion that she was much smaller than she seemed? Either way, Char felt the guilt practically tear him apart from the inside.

"Your home is the castle, and you _do_ have a family; you have a father, a brother, and, well, I was hoping we could become something like sisters…" Cinderella trailed off, her quiet sentence hanging within the already tense room. Gwendolyn looked at the woman with narrowed eyes.

"Living in some place, and having a home, are two very different things," The teen answered through clenched teeth. "And as for family…well, I believe I don't need to say much on that subject. After all, I don't believe a so _hoped_ for 'sister' of mine would betray a dream, right, your highness?" Her words cut like venom, Gwendolyn knew, and she did not care, not one bit.

Okay, well, maybe she _did_ feel a little something when she saw Cinderella give that deep wince. And maybe she _did_ feel a bit horrid when she saw the woman's bottom lip start to quiver. Wait…was that…were Cinderella's eyes really starting to water?

_That dratted woman and her sensitive nature!_

"I'm sorry." Letting her shoulders drop and a sigh escape from her lips, Gwendolyn directed this towards the woman. "I don't to mean to come off so…callous, your highness. Especially towards the only person who actually tried when it came to me." Sighing again, the teen felt everything within her drop. "I'm just…" How could Gwendolyn put in words what she felt?

Hurt, betrayed, blind-sided? Yes, definitely. Mournful, wishful, and still clinging to a pathetic hope? Yes as well. There was really no one word that could sum up her whirlwind of emotions. Just a bunch of jumbled phrases that all spelled out the same message; either she left, or she spent the next eighty years of her life in misery.

Shaking her head, Gwendolyn started walking towards the door of her room. The only entrance and the only exit out of this dungeon. She only felt bad that she was leaving behind Henry IV again. He was such a good pet. She'd have to send a letter to the castle soon, detailing how he had to be fed a proper diet of insects.

Not one for a big dramatic show, the girl pushed up both her sleeves and took the final step towards her door, hand reaching out to pushing it outwards…

"Oh my gosh! Char, look at her arm!" A voice suddenly broke through the teen's concentration, startling her. A hand came out of nowhere, grasping at her right wrist, pulling her away from the door and closer to the crown prince.

"Oh God…that is one awful mark." A worried tone made Gwendolyn snap her arm out of her brother's grasp, but not a moment later he pulled her arm away from her again, examining the scrape she'd received from the mollusks on the pier.

"It's fine." Lying through her teeth, Gwendolyn tried not to gasp out in pain as her brother pressed a large thumb over the tender, red-black bruising around the cut.

"It almost looks infected!" Cinderella gasped, looking over the cut on Gwendolyn's arm herself from a closer angle now. "Didn't you even clean this cut?"

Gwendolyn squirmed under the fiery question from Cinderella. A moment ago she was the one in charge. Now she felt like a child being questioned by their parents. Oh, how she hated this reversal of roles.

"I put water on it, if that's what you're asking."

"Only water? Don't you know anything about treating a wound?" Char asked, in a voice that implied more than it said. Gwendolyn felt a brief surge of anger to go through her. How dare he imply that she was stupid! It wasn't her fault!

"Hello, my name is Gwendolyn, more commonly known as The _Forgotten_ Princess."

Char's head snapped up at that, his eyes staring straight into Gwendolyn's. For a second, they stared one another down, until finally the intensity of her glare made the crown prince turn away.

"Come on." Char finally said, his fingers closing around his younger sister's wrist and pulling her along behind him.

Cinderella, for a second, trailed after them, before she stopped. She'd brought Char here, and had gotten him to react at the sight of his sister leaving. Now the rest was up to him; she couldn't interfere in this, for it had been a long time coming between the siblings. The woman felt herself smile triumphantly at that. One down, one more to go. She'd pull this family together soon enough.

"Where are you taking me?" Gwendolyn cried out, pulling this way and that but not able to get free. Her brother's strong grasp was no match for her puny muscles.

_Maybe_ _Trent was right after all; I'm not exactly the strongest of the bunch. _

"To the infirmary, before you fall asleep and wake up with an arm twice the size of your head." Char replied to his sister. The teen stopped struggling within a second of hearing his voice. Suddenly shell shocked, both Charmond and Gwendolyn stayed quiet, the same thoughts running through their heads.

_Since when did this happen? _

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><p><strong>So here we are, with another three chapters :) And I have goodbad news for all you readers out there (by the way, thank you ALL; I'm so glad you like this fanfic); this story has only three more chapters. It's a bittersweet thought, to know that a story will be ending soon, won't it? :S Well, let's not focus on such thoughts for now; after all, we do have three more chapters together! **

**Please REVIEW! And thank you times a thousand to all those who have. Maybe if I get enough reviews I might post up those last three chapters sooner...**


	19. Chapter 19: Trust Me, or Trust Me Not

The doctor wasn't in the infirmary.

That was the very first thing Gwendolyn noticed about the room she hadn't been in since her last "accident" with governess number thirteen. That was almost four years ago. She still had the burn scar to prove it.

"Sit." Char finally said, tilting his head in the direction of one of the two infirmary beds. Gwendolyn simply glowered at him.

"I know your highness doesn't have the mental capacity to remember my name, but I'd like to inform you that I am _not_ a dog." Gwendolyn growled out, her glowering becoming a deep rooted scowl. Char's lips twitched in slight amusement, though he kept the rest of his face as smooth as a new sheet of paper.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to offend." Gesturing with his hand now, Char resisted the urge to outright chuckle at the pathetic glare being given to him by his younger sister. "Would you _please_ sit?"

"If it's all the same to you, your highness, I'd prefer to stand."

There was something strangely smug about the look in Gwendolyn's eyes, Char noticed it immediately. He sighed in slight annoyance. He didn't exactly want to have to play this type of mind game with a teenager.

"Sit down."

"No thank-you."

A stare down ensued, probably the third or fourth of the night so far. Two pairs of hazel eyes stared down at each other, willing the other person to give in, to give up, to allow the other to win this small battle. It was Char that finally lost it, shifting his eyes to the infected wound on his sister's arm, before meeting her eyes once again.

"The sooner you sit, the sooner I leave you alone."

_Alone. _The word rang out in Gwendolyn's mind. While her heart did not jump at the prospect of being desolate again, she did find some happiness in the fact that the prince would not be bothering her if she complied. With that in mind, the teenager gave a hard look to the man in front of her, before she slowly allowed herself to sit on the examination table silently. Her lips were pulled tightly together, and her hazel eyes seemed to burn holes in Char, but other than that, she complied without a single complaint.

For his part, Char didn't allow himself to have a triumphant smile. He knew that while he had won this battle, the war still raged on, and Gwendolyn was winning. Thinking about this, the man also became silent, the only sounds coming from him were that of cabinets opening and closing as he got out the necessary things to treat a wound. Finally, when he had everything that he may possibly need, Char winced slightly to himself and then turned around to direct his attention on his sister.

"Okay, give me your arm." Pulling up a stool next to where his sister was seated, Char tried to control the excessive beating of his heart. He was nervous. This was the most he'd talked to his sister since…ever.

Silently, and with a smirk, Gwendolyn extended her good arm towards Char. She kept the infected one behind her back, not daring to let him touch it. She may be acting childish, but she didn't care.

"Please don't be difficult; I'm only trying to help." Char pleaded, his voice on the verge of a sigh. The look shot to him by his younger sister could have curdled dairy.

"I'm not a charity case. I don't need _your_ help." Gwendolyn replied, a bite in her tone that could have taken out ten full grown warriors in one sitting.

"So what, pray tell, are you going to do when you wake up in the morning and have to have your arm amputated because the infection spread?" Char responded, frustration lining his own tone. Gwendolyn faltered, but only for a brief second.

"I…well, what does it matter to _you_ anyway?" Voice growing stronger, the teenager turned the tables on her brother with a question that made him squirm. Her hazel eyes flashed with a cold fury, though she remarkably kept the rest of her features composed.

"Because…I don't like seeing people hurt?"

"Oh?" Gwendolyn questioned, bitterness creeping into her laugh. "Then the past fifteen years of my life were what? An complete oversight on your part? Or perhaps you just decided that it was easier not to get involved. After all," Here the girl's voice dripped with venom, "it wouldn't do to have the Crown Prince's hands dirty, now would it?"

"I…" Char stammered, unable to reach a coherent sentence. What could he respond to all that? That it was the truth? That he was a horrible person? That he deserved her hatred of him? "I'm sorry. I know that I haven't exactly…been the sort of…older brother that I should have—"

"_That's_ putting it mildly."

"—but I really do want to try to fix it, alright? So please, try to work with me." Char gave a chagrin, and his brows pulled together in a state of worry and stress. Gwendolyn stared at him for a long moment, studying him, before sighing and shaking her head.

"Why?"

"Why?" Char repeated, dumbstruck at the simple word.

"For all you're studying, your mind truly is a pathetic wasteland; do you know that, your highness?" Sighing to herself, Gwendolyn ran her hand through her carrot colored tresses.

"I mean, why now? Why after fifteen years do you suddenly feel the need to spring up and be…well,_ try_ to be a sibling?" Gaining momentum, Gwendolyn found herself suddenly unable to stop spilling out her inner thoughts.

"Why didn't you do it during all those dinners, when I _needed_ someone to speak up for me? Why didn't you do it on past birthdays, when I've practically _begged _for some attention? Why didn't you do it when I _cried_, every night, afraid of the next day because I _knew_ it would just bring misery? Why didn't you help me, instead of siding with _him_? Hm? Can you tell me _why_, your highness? Can you?"

By the end, Gwendolyn's voice had risen to a shout, her fists had clenched up, and her eyes burned with the tears she would not cry in front of the very person who'd caused them so many times. Her eyes, even though watery, burned like a thousand suns, each one piercing Charmond just a bit more.

The man hesitated before answering, not trusting his own voice. He felt his throat light itself on fire, and his eyes had watered with tears as well, though he would not cry them. Everything she said was true. Every word of it. When he backpedaled, looking through memories, he found himself asking the same question to himself. Why hadn't he acted? Why had just stood on the side, pretending that it was alright? Why?

"Gwendolyn," Char started gently, letting the girl's full name roll off his tongue. It felt awkward and false coming from him. "All I can say for sure is that when you left…I felt like someone cut out a piece of me. And that was terrifying because I was forced to go over every angle and every shred of evidence when it concerned how I've treated you." Char took in a deep breath, before releasing it in a sigh. He turned his eyes towards the girl, their hazel orbs sincere.

"Look; I can't change the past. But I can change the future, and I know I don't want another fifteen years of stony hatred between us. So I'm going to try as hard as I can to be a better person…to you."

Though his words came out all in a tumble, and Char was sure he could not understand half of what he was saying, somehow he knew that it sounded about right. All he had to do now was to wait for his apology to be accepted.

"And what if I say that I don't believe you?" Gwendolyn challenged, her eyes sparkling with fury, though she kept her tone relatively calm.

Char did a double take. Somehow he had thought that pouring his heart out would fix all this. That's what usually happened in these types of situations, right? Noticing his perplexed state, Gwendolyn gave a derisive snort and a serious eye roll.

"Did you honestly think that after fifteen years of being ignored I haven't learned to read people like cards?" The teenager said aloud, her eyes holding a steady gaze on Char's. "You're so—" The girl cut herself off suddenly when she noticed something.

He was utterly terrified.

_Has no one ever denied the wittle princey-poo?_

Gwendolyn's thoughts turned on the snide side when she realized that her brother was only afraid of the fact that someone might not actually tell him what he wanted to hear. He wasn't scared that their relationship might be forever stunted because of her; no, he was frightened because he thought someone wouldn't give in to him.

_Almost twenty-two and he can't even stand on his own two feet. _

Perhaps it wasn't his entire fault though. After all, he was raised posh and privileged, with every amenity that he may ever need at his disposal. He wanted a toy? A full grown horse was bought for him. He wanted a dream girl? His father sent out a dispatch to almost every home in the village to see if, by some small relief, a slipper would fit one of them. By never having a real word experience, such as heartbreak or toughening his hands through hard labor, he'd been robbed of the chance to do really…anything.

Oddly, Gwendolyn felt bad for him.

After all, her life may have been one giant hole in the dark, but at least she'd gained strength from it. With nothing ever being handed to her, she'd had to work and fight through it all. Though there were times when it was to the point where she could no longer take it, she knew she was a better person because of it. She was smarter than him, the girl realized, and if she played this hand right, she may be able to get away.

"Alright." Gwendolyn said suddenly, causing her brother to jerk at her words. "I'm trusting you on this, Char. I don't like second chances, particularly when it involves me giving it to someone who has to be reminded that I exist. If you really believe that you can do what you said—"

"I can!"

"—then you have less than three years to prove it. I hope you use your time wisely." Gwendolyn watched with intense eyes as Char bowed his head, his gaze resting on the floor. No doubt he was holding back tears. Ridiculous creature.

"I _will_ make it up to you, Gwen." _Gwen._ A shorter version of her full name. A nickname, as it was so labeled. Not exactly original, but it had a sort of charm to it. And it did sound a lot better coming from Char than her full name; _that _was for sure.

"Mhm hm." Gwendolyn held back a sigh. If only the idiot knew that she was playing him like a string. She knew as well as any other person merely observing the situation that sooner or later he'd return to ignoring her. Of course she knew that. So then why did she still hope that it would be different this time?

Shaking off those thoughts, the girl slowly extended his infected arm towards her brother. She had absolute faith that he would screw this up. Would you allow a complete stranger, with no formal medical training, to treat _your_ open wound? Of course not.

In the morning, she'd come back to this infirmary and have the _doctor_, a trained professional, do what he needed to do to the wound on her arm. But for right now, it was merely a sign that she trusted him enough to make a good decision concerning their relationship. Speaking about their relationship…

"If you must know," Gwendolyn started, slowly enunciating her words. "I didn't _really_ mean that I hated you…I just thought you should be aware." Gwendolyn said, her hazel eyes staring at the far wall. She didn't do well with sensitivities and emotions and what-not. Thankfully, neither did Char.

He merely gave another bow of his head, and then a sort of half smile, as though he knew something she did not. Of course, that was ridiculous because the girl knew that she'd gone over every angle of this. But instead of commenting on it, or doing so herself, Gwendolyn noticed that he stayed quiet and started to treat her infected wound. He did this in a rather companionable silence.

And that made all the difference.

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><p><strong>Well, I kept my word. You guys reviewed, and I posted up a chapter. I tried extremely hard so that this was sort of balanced out properly; I wanted it so that Gwendolyn isn't completely submissive, but also that she wasn't completely cold hearted either. Anyway, if you wonderful reviewers keep up the reviews, I'll post another chapter asap! :) <strong>


	20. Chapter 20: Matters at Hand

Gwendolyn was not a person who enjoyed mornings. Her most productive time of the day came only when she was awake in the wee hours of the night. Her lessons had never begun until after lunch, mostly because her tutors wanted to spend little to no time teaching a student who, for all intends and purposes, was nonexistent within the world. All of her previous governesses had left her alone in this regard; to be quite frank, they had been terrified at the ease of which a child was able to go without sleep for too long to be normal. Therefore, because of these factors, she was used to awaking at whatever time she pleased.

So then why was she being roused from her sleep, in a very hurried sort of way, by a person who must have been a drill-master in a past life?

"Wake up!"

In a flurry of a move, Gwendolyn felt herself rolling off of her bed and onto the hard, freezing floor of her room. Making a sound that was a cross between a groan and a moan of pure agony, she finally sat up, blearily looking up at the one face she was never in the mood to see.

"Leave me _alone_, Prudence." Garbling her usually precise words because of her exhausted state, the teen wrapped the worn bed blanket around herself and settled on the floor.

_If I lay very still, perhaps she'll take me for a corpse and leave me be._

"As much as I sincerely want to, your _highness_," There was an extra sting to the title Prudence (the person who controlled everything and everyone who had duties within the castle) used, as though here words were meant to cut right through the remaining pieces of Gwendolyn's heart.

"The king has demanded that you join 'the family' for breakfast. So, with that being said…Get. Up!"

Yanked harshly by the collar of her nightgown, Gwendolyn felt two things happen at once. One, she was forced into a sitting position, which meant that she was torn away from her somewhat-warm bed blanket. Two, something ripped loudly, allowing for the collar of her nightgown to expose her shoulder. Looking up with a dirty glare towards a mildly surprised Prudence, the teenager gave a huff of annoyance and snatched the ripped part off the ground.

"Pathetic, cheap fabric." Prudence said, as close to an apology as Gwendolyn would ever receive. The teen shot an irritated look up at the woman.

"Sometimes the cheapest things last the longest." The teenager retorted, narrowing her eyes as she stood up and then promptly fell back into her rather uncomfortable bed. At least it was better than the floor.

"Don't act like a peasant." Prudence snapped back, her tone filled with a distaste that only a pretentious person could acquire. Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. Arguing, however fun, would be useless.

"No matter." She said aloud, trying to brush it all off as though it meant nothing. Then, suddenly, she heard a noise that made her head swivel sharply in the direction of her wardrobe.

Two young maids, presumably in their early twenties and most likely friends, were busily messing with the clothes that lay within the wardrobe. While neither of them spoke aloud, there expressions were set tight with anxiety and worry. This probably explained why they were looking over at Gwendolyn every so often with a type of fearful awe.

Gwendolyn, however, met their awestruck gazes with a sharp one of her own.

"Who are _they_?" The teen demanded, her voice concealing the fury she felt. Her room was her sanctuary; no one was allowed in without her express consent. Even her past governesses had followed that rule.

"They are the only two girls who actually have the stamina to walk all the way up here for very little reward. They are going to make you look somewhat like an important person, though it escapes me _how_." Prudence wrinkled her nose in strong revulsion as she looked over at Gwendolyn. The teenager, in turn, scowled at the woman with all her might.

"I'm failing to see a correlation between _them_," Gwendolyn gestured to the two maids "making me look as though I matter, and me waking up at this wicked hour. You've failed, not just in life, but in explaining all this nonsense."

Prudence gave a scowl back towards the teenager, who looked upwards with a challenge in her eyes.

"As I stated earlier, your _highness_," The title was said through gritted teeth, as though there was no other way to spit it out "the king has demanded that you join him, the crown prince, and the princess at breakfast this morning. I've already gotten a chew-out by the king because of your absence at the table; I don't intend to get anymore. Is _that _a clearer explanation, or do I have to dumb it down even further?"

Prudence seemed annoyed, Gwendolyn noted, more so than she usually was. The king must have really torn into her. Speaking of the king…

"He's never wanted my presence before. Most especially during meal times." Gwendolyn frowned, a look of deep confusion filling her features. Then an idea hit her. "Do you think he wants to do a public humiliation to make up for the fact that his men could find no trace of me for over three weeks?"

Gwendolyn looked up; she was awaiting an honest answer from the one woman she knew would have no trouble supplying it. However, if anything, Prudence looked taken aback at this question. Actually, if the teenager looked particularly into it, Prudence looked…flustered.

"I…well, I mean…all I know is that he is _not _in a good mood today. Then again, he's never in a good mood on the anniversary of the queen's death."

Gwendolyn sucked in a breath, earning her an odd look from Prudence. She quickly released it, and tried to control her emotions before they ran wild. Mentally, she started counting down the days, trying to figure out if today really was _that_ day. Then, her heart sank like a stone when she found that the numbers all matched up. Today really was the anniversary of the queen's death.

On an unimportant side note, today was also Gwendolyn's sixteenth birthday.

But this wasn't making any sense. From an early age, Gwendolyn had known that the day of the year to stay away from the king was on the anniversary of his wife's death. Her birthday or not, the king was never in his right mind on this day, which meant that any little thing could tick him off. That's why the teenager constantly hid on her birthday, appearing only for dinner so that she could collect whatever cheap trinket someone had reminded him to buy. And even then he seemed extremely agitated at her presence. So then why would he want her at breakfast? He _must_ have something humiliating in mind.

Giving a dramatic sigh as a way to hide the true feelings reeling inside of her, Gwendolyn rationalized that it was better to get whatever punishment the king was planning out of the way early. Maybe then she could spend the rest of her day, or rather, _birth_day, in peace.

"I suppose this means that I'll have to get dressed and go downstairs, doesn't it?"

"Obviously." Prudence retorted, rolling her eyes at the teenager's simple answer. "Of course, by the king demanding your presence, this means you'll have to wear something fitting for the occasion."

"Um…Prudence, ma'am?" One of the maids squeaked out, causing both Gwendolyn and Prudence to snap their heads in her direction. "Speaking of fitting…"

The maid gestured to the five dresses, the only five dresses Gwendolyn had, that she was able to find. Even from a distance it was obvious they were worn down to the point of almost-tears and would barely cover the top of the girl's calves. That would mean _more_ than the princess's ankle would be in view. Prudence looked back at Gwendolyn with an air of extreme irritation.

"Don't you have anything that would actually _fit_?"

"Nothing." Gwendolyn replied, innocently shrugging as Prudence narrowed her eyes. But, as this was a well worn conversation between the two, Gwendolyn already knew what to answer before Prudence had even said it.

"Trollop."

"Prude."

By the time Prudence was gone, and Gwendolyn all but stared down the two maids so that they would leave as well, the teen had wasted a good twenty minutes. If she hurried, she would be able to catch the tail end of breakfast. As it was her stomach was grumbling for something to eat, and a good meal would wake her up considerably.

However, Gwendolyn was in absolutely no rush to go downstairs.

The teenager took her sweet time dressing for the day. She considered wearing the slacks she'd hidden beneath the lumps in her mattress, but banished that thought altogether when she realized that she didn't need to cause trouble for attention. She was courting it by simply being here, and being alive.

Sixteen years, the teen mused as she all but stuffed herself into a skin-tight-dog-vomit-colored dress. Sixteen years ago she was given life, and then quickly snuffed out the life of the person who had given her this chance. While Gwendolyn rarely entertained thoughts of the queen, she always did wonder, on this specific day, how things could have been different under other circumstances. Most likely things would have been better…correct?

"Stupid." Gwendolyn cursed herself, finally managing to pull on the ridiculous monstrosity called a dress.

As a chemicist, she was a firm believer in the probability of two physical objects reacting. She was not, however, a firm believer in the probability of what if's. After all, why guess when mathematics could distinctly prove?

Shaking her head disapprovingly at herself, the teen brushed her fingers through her waves of carrot-colored locks before slowly, oh so slowly, starting to walk down to breakfast.

* * *

><p>"Gwendolyn!" Cinderella's too-chipper voice was the first noise the teen heard upon entering the dining room. Almost immediately, she regretted ever coming down.<p>

Keeping her head down in an attempt to block the idiotic woman out, the teenager slipped into her usual seat and pretended to look _extremely_ interested in the cold plate of food in front of her.

"Hi." Char managed to say aloud, bowing his head slightly towards Gwendolyn. The girl looked up with a blank face, but bowed her head all the same so that she didn't come off as rude.

"Hello."

The mere fact that she was here, at this time, with these people, was amazing. And Char actually speaking to her, even one word? It rather touched her. At least he wasn't diving headlong into this get-to-know-the-other-princess ordeal like his wife. _That_ would just be annoying.

"You're late."

Those were the words that first escaped Eadberht, albeit with a deep wince afterwards. It was just that…he didn't know _what_ to do. It wasn't exactly a good day to start trying to win back the affections of his daughter, with it being the anniversary of his wife's death and all.

"_You're_ an absentee legal guardian." Gwendolyn shot back, a scowl suddenly taking the place of her blank features as she stared down the king. She would not go back to being someone's doormat again. "I'm glad we've established the obvious, your majesty."

The tension in the room suddenly reached a ten-fold height. Cinderella felt herself holding her breath, praying that this wouldn't turn out into another full scale meltdown-argument. After all, Gwendolyn had only been here for less than five minutes! And she hadn't even been at home for a full twenty-four hours! War couldn't break out in that time…could it? Oh dear…

"I'm your father, you know." Eadberht said in a quiet voice, trying to control his anger which was merely a way for him to express his pain. He bowed his head, not in an attempt to look subdued, but so that he didn't shoot off Gwendolyn. The girl seemed to particularly enjoy feeding off of his fury.

"You are my legal guardian." Gwendolyn shot back calmly, avoiding Cinderella's blue eyes.

For certain, the woman would be begging for her to stop this madness and just pretend to eat her cold food. Perhaps she could even make conversation with her brother and sister-in-law, while also pretending that breakfast had ended almost an hour and a half before and the king was not forcing them to remain sitting there, waiting for her to finish her own plate of food.

"I'm your father." Eadberht gritted his teeth, trying to keep his anger in check. It was working, but just barely.

"We can't prove anything." With a smirk, Gwendolyn stared unabashedly into her king's eyes.

He suddenly seemed to snap, jerking back violently in his seat. Cinderella and Char cried out in alarm, but before either of them were able to even jump out of their seats and attend to the king, he had grabbed Gwendolyn's arm and was forcibly dragging her out of the dining room.

_Let the punishment begin._

* * *

><p><strong>Just a quickie update, something to hold you guys over until the final chapter. :) I have to say, the beginning of this chapter with Prudence was especially hard to write, mostly because I had absolutely no idea how I could accomplish what I wanted. But I'm happy at the way it came out. And the last part was more or less a teaser (another cliffhanger, sorry!) for the last chapter. <strong>

**I'm super happy with the reviews guys! Your all doing a great job, and its really warming my heart to see how many people like this story. Because you are all so great, I've decided to pose a challenge: if this story makes it to 200 reviews, I'll make a sequel. So review! :) **


	21. Chapter 21: A New Chapter

"_That_ was unnecessary." Gwendolyn spoke, her voice thick with irritation as she was shoved into a large room. "It would have just been easier to punish me out there, instead of wasting my time—and I suppose yours as well—by dragging me to this…place."

For the most part, Eadberht didn't turn and take the bait laying right in front of him. Sure, it was tempting, but he wouldn't allow the teenager the satisfaction of seeing him angry. Obviously, that was what she was trying to do.

"Sit." Eadberht directed, his voice leaving no room for argument. Gwendolyn gave him a skeptical look, before doing as her king commanded and slowly walking towards a comfortable looking couch in the middle of the room.

Speaking of this room, there was something that was almost creepy about it. It was rather easy to point out upon first glance, but it still made the teen feel as though the king had a serious infatuation with this carrot-haired woman, whose portraits lined the walls of this room like wallpaper.

For a brief second, the thought that it perhaps that was the late queen filled her mind, before the girl banished the thought. It was a well known gossip fact that after the queen had died, the king had removed all her portraits from the palace and put them somewhere else. Therefore, besides the fact that Gwendolyn did not know what the queen looked like, she also knew that it would be rather idiotic to remove every portrait in the palace and just place it in one room.

There were portraits of this woman and a much younger king, ones of her with a young Charmond, ones of her doing all sorts of things like playing cricket or riding a horse. However, upon closer inspection, Gwendolyn realized that all of these portraits must have been done years ago. So where was this woman now, and why had no one thought to document her?

"You seem to have had some type of relationship with this woman, your majesty. I've never seen so many portraits of the same person in my lifetime."

Making herself comfortable on the couch, as she had a feeling this would take awhile, Gwendolyn let herself look vaguely interested in the portraits lining the walls. Inwardly, her curiosity was bounding to know who this person was, but outwardly she kept a calm composure. She would not get ahead of herself in front of the king.

"That 'person' is _your_ mother." Eadberht answered, his voice clearly irritated. After all, it was obvious that Gwendolyn was simply doing this to get his goat. However, Gwendolyn only raised a brow in his direction.

"I should hope that woman is not my parent, considering that the queen has been dead for sixteen years."

Either the king had officially lost all his sense, or he'd had one too many drinks, because he was certainly not speaking correctly. He'd probably already planned on doing this beforehand, though. After all, it was obvious that the king was simply doing this to get her goat.

"Just because she died doesn't mean that she was never your mother, girl." Eadberht answered with a growl, glowering over Gwendolyn. The girl, in turn, looked as uninterested as possible as she stared at a portrait of the woman at a younger age.

"Really, your highness? Because I was under the impression that if you have never known a person, then they could not be a parent." Clearing her throat in a lazy sort of manner, the girl turned her eyes back on the king, staring them down with this pure form of anger in them. "Forgive me though. I have never had the best of examples to go on. What, with one parent dead and the other practically in the same state."

That, Eadberht felt, was like a bee sting to his very heart. He stopped pacing for a moment and looked over at the girl, who had since turned her own eyes away. Though she sounded uninterested and on the verge of being rude, Eadberht knew better than anyone, after reading through her journal, that this was simply a defense mechanism she had employed to shield him away from her. He just had to keep calm and break through that shield.

"I may not have been much of a father—"

"An astounding observation, your majesty."

"—but I will not tolerate you speaking ill of your mother. She loved you before you were born, and then felt triple that emotion when you were finally in her arms. So don't you dare speak bad about her."

Eadberht took in a deep breath, and then slowly let it out (a trick his daughter-in-law had taught him to keep from stretching himself too thin) as calm as can be. He stood still, hands behind his back, but was at least a good ten feet from where his daughter sat. He expected the teenager to say something biting as her next remark. But she caught him off guard.

"Is this your idea of a punishment, your majesty? Trying to make a teenage girl feel worse than she already does?" Giving a slightly bitter laugh, Gwendolyn punched one of the throw pillows lightly, before she looked back up with angry tears in her eyes. "Well, I can assure you, its working."

Damn him, Gwendolyn cursed in her mind. A public humiliation would have been better than this. Heck, being quartered and drawn through the streets would have even been nicer! But this? This…this talking, this thing where he brought up lies about the woman who gave birth to her…well, this was insanity! He wasn't allowed to make her angry; he wasn't allowed to make her rethink about her set opinions. He'd never taken a single interest in her, and now? _Now_ is when he decided to do so?

"What are you talking about? What punishment?" Worried now, Eadberht took a step forward, anxiety filling his hazel eyes. Gwendolyn gave a hard laugh.

"Oh, don't act so innocent, your majesty. I know you think I killed your wife, and I _know_ these lies you're spouting off are simply a part of your little punishment game. I may be young, sire, but I'm not an idiot."

Gwendolyn felt her bitter voice crack just slightly on the last word, but she remained firm and did not let a single tear fall from her eyes. She simply looked back up at the king, a look of fierce resentment meeting one of hurt and pity. Hang his pity, the girl swore in her mind. She didn't need him to feel sorry after he was the one who had put her in this position.

Eadberht simply shook his head.

"I never intended for things to go so bad. I suppose I should blame myself for this."

"Oh ho, you _think_?" The look Eadberht gave the girl immediately quieted her. The king had something to say, and she'd be a fool to try and talk over him.

"I never thought, not for one second, that you were the cause of your mother's death, girl. It wasn't your fault that we were _all_ underprepared that night." Giving a sigh at the very thought of his dear Cassandra, Eadberht continued.

"And as for this 'punishment game' you believe I'm playing, well, I'm not. If anything, _I _should be the one being punished for never treating you the way you deserved. For that, I truly apologize." Bowing his head in a deep sorry, and keeping it that way for a few second, the man suddenly realized something.

"Speaking of deserving…"

Gwendolyn watched as the king walked off to a small desk in the room, and easily opened up one of its drawers. She wasn't able to see what he took out, but then, she didn't really need to because in the next second he was handing it to her. Looking down at the worn book in her hands, Gwendolyn felt her breath momentarily taken away from her.

"My journal?" The girl managed to finally say, eyes wide and heart pumping. Looking back up at the king, she watched him give a slight nod to her, as though saying it was okay to press it against her and never let it go.

"I should apologize again here, because I spent a week going through your journal and then the last two weeks referring back to it when I was about to lose my mind." Gwendolyn stared dumbly at the journal back in her hands, her mouth going dry in the process.

"You _went _through it?"

Horror seemed to be the only thing the girl could feel at the moment. No one, absolutely no one, was supposed to see her journal. This was her lifeline; it was her companion through days when she could barely make it. The things she had written in there…the things the king had _seen_…

"I did." Eadberht admitted, looking away in slight shame. "I never realized you were so intelligent." Perhaps a compliment would ease the pain the girl must have been feeling at the very thought of someone going through her personal things.

"You never wanted to know, sire." Gwendolyn answered, keeping the journal safely tucked into her arms. Her voice was back to being as careful as it usually was when it concerned the king. She was now, officially, on her guard.

"Well…erm…" Unable to come up with a response for that, Eadberht tried a different approach. "I had all the books on chemistry and poetry picked out for you in the library." Desperate to get something more in, Eadberht felt himself grasping at thin air. Perhaps his attempt at taking an interest in her hobbies would resonate?

"I finished off all three of them by the age of ten, your majesty." Gwendolyn answered back, watching Eadberht's face fall a mile at just that. Well, good, the girl reasoned. At least now he knew how it felt.

A silence desended upon the duo, each one not willing to move forward, but unable to move back just the same. Eadberht was at a loss for what to do next; Gwendolyn was afraid of what would come next.

_That last experiment was more dangerous than this!_

Sighing finally, Gwendolyn took a leap of faith. Clearing her throat, she started to speak.

"Your majesty—"

"Eadberht, please." The king interjected quickly, tiring of the girl using his official title. After all, she was family. Family shouldn't have to be so formal…should it? Urgh! Why was this so frustratingly difficult!

"—_your majesty_, if I may, what exactly do you think you're going to accomplish by doing all," gesturing around her, Gwendolyn raised her brows "this?"

Eadberht felt his mouth go dry and his heart start to beat like a drum. Something inside of him said that this was not a good idea, not at all.

"Pardon?"

Gwendolyn stifled the urge to roll her eyes. As if the man had not heard her.

"Just because you think one conversation with me will fix years of being ignored does not make it so, sire. After all, seventeen governesses is a rather large—"

"Twenty-four, actually."

Gwendolyn felt herself suddenly come to a halt, and stare at the king with deep confusion in her eyes. What was the man talking about now?

"Excuse me?"

"You had, exactly, twenty-four governesses." Eadberht filled in without missing beat. Still though, the expression that Gwendolyn was giving him made the man raise an eyebrow. "Check the records, if you don't believe me."

"You have _records_?"

"Do you really think I didn't record the most important things in my children's lives?" Feeling a bit offended by that, Eadberht stared at the girl until he realized that she was utterly confused. That felt like a slap in the face. Well, a slap in the face that he probably deserved.

"I'm not understanding." Gwendolyn swallowed deeply, trying to take away the tightness in her throat. What on earth was this man speaking on about now? He'd hardly even looked at her in her entire lifetime!

Eadberht only gave another sigh.

"You have a serious allergy to shellfish, you have a horrible ear for music, you have never been much of an early-riser, I daresay that sports are not your area, there have been no boys in your life as of yet (thank goodness for that), and you like the crusts cut off on all your sandwiches, else you will not touch them."

Eadberht, with an ease befitting someone who knew someone else well, spouted off a few random facts about the girl that made her eyes grow wide.

While it would just be simple to say that he could have read all that in her journal…the problem was that it was impossible too. Gwendolyn's journal was strictly that; a journal, not a diary. She did not document her every move; rather, she documented experiments, poems depicting abstract themes, and worked through math problems that were high above her age level. She did not state the little nitpick things about herself, for she felt it an extreme waste of time. So either someone was feeding this information to the king (doubtful, considering that most people had to think twice to remember she existed) or…or the man had really been paying attention to her in ways she'd never known.

"Well," Gwendolyn started, clearing out her throat and throwing her shoulders back. "The fact still remains that apologies are merely words, while actions have much stronger implications. Your actions, sire, have lead me to believe that you don't feel obligated to love your child. Actually, to be quite honest, you've never even _liked_ me."

Feeling herself grow in anger, Gwendolyn continued in a stronger voice than before, eyes burning holes in the king.

"How do you explain your way out of that one, hm? How can you explain away all the nights I spent hating the queen for giving me life? How can you explain away all the hurt, and the anger, and the frustration I felt every time I wanted just a bit of acknowledgement for something I'd done? How, your majesty, please, explain to me _how_!"

Standing up now, Gwendolyn realized that she was a good deal taller than her father. No matter. She didn't have time to think about that, now that resentment and anger that had been built up inside her for years was steadily pouring out in rapid succession. She was furious, she was hurt, she was ready to stand on her own two feet and never be pushed down again.

"I can only say that I wasn't strong enough." Eadberht quietly admitted, shame filling his tone as he looked away from his daughter. The girl jerked in surprise at that, not expecting such an answer.

"I'd already lost my wife, your mother…and you looked so much like her…I blamed myself for her death, you know, and…I just wasn't strong enough to take that risk of being the father you deserved and one day possibly losing you as well."

There was pain behind Eadberht's words, a pain that startled Gwendolyn to no degree. Was he…was this man serious? He had to be, his mannerisms attributed to that fact. However, his past history spoke so much against him…she couldn't trust him, not after what he'd done to her. Not after all the pain, confusion, frustration, and everything in between he'd made her go through. She couldn't just allow him to weasel his way in here and—

"I…I know you're a smart girl, and I know you don't want anything to do with me, not after the way I've treated you for so long. But at least understand how damn _sorry_ I am for never being there for you."

Eadberht felt it, he felt the tears sliding down his cheeks, and he felt his heart practically ripping apart from the inside. He could feel all of it happening at once, and he was practically on a cliff's edge, holding onto a rock and almost slipping down. The only thing that could keep him up would be the girl's words. But one look at Gwendolyn's face made him feel as though he should just let go now.

"Sorry is just another pathetic excuse. In the real world, your majesty, the world I've _lived_ in for the past weeks, sorry doesn't account for anything."

Calmly speaking, and ignoring the tears running down the king's face, the girl felt oddly sturdy for once in her life. Turning on her heel, Gwendolyn started to walk in the opposite direction, out of the room with the portraits of the woman she'd never known, out of the king's life, out of…everything that had to do with this nonsense. She was strong, she was important, and she was nobody's doormat anymore.

"Wait!" Eadberht felt himself cry out, wiping away those dratted tears with his sleeve, just like a child would do. Gwendolyn, however, did not seem to even want to stop as she headed straight towards the doors.

"Wait! Please! Gwendolyn, I love you!"

Those three words, those three most dangerous words that anyone could ever utter to another soul. Those three tiny words that were backed with so much meaning. Those words that would make anyone feel as though they'd never been forgotten before. Those three words were finally said.

Gwendolyn felt herself halt, just at the door to exit this room. Her shoulders dropped, she bit her lip, and slowly, she felt herself turn around. The king was just standing there, a look torn between sheer hope and sheer failure sliding across his desperate features. The girl gave a sigh.

Perhaps it was that she couldn't stand to dole out the cruelty that had been pushed onto her throughout the years. Perhaps it was that she'd always wished for the family experience. Perhaps it was that she could feel as though this was her ticket to no longer being ignored. Or perhaps, yes, perhaps it was because there was a voice whispering for her to go forward, a voice she knew well, a voice that had started this entire thing.

"You're…you're being honest with me, right? No tricks?"

The polite bravado suddenly fell, and left standing there in its place was a young girl, biting her bottom lip. She was worried, she was terrified…she was more hopeful than she'd ever been.

"A man knows when he's done wrong, Gwendolyn, and a true father knows when it's time to live up to his child's expectations." Eadberht answered, his own features mirroring those of Gwendolyn. He was scared to his death, he was more anxious than he should be at this age…and he was staring into her hazel eyes, so much like his own, and wishing he could put his hope for the future in words.

"Okay." Gwendolyn breathed, unable to form any other coherent words.

"Okay?" Eadberht felt himself repeating, not really questioning, more like he was clarifying.

"Okay." Gwendolyn said for the final time, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug. "We can't start over, your highness, but we _can_ start a new chapter." The teenager took in a deep breath, steadying herself as she took a few steps forward to really stare down the king.

"Do not mistake my kindness for weakness, sire. In two years I _will_ make a decision on whether or not I am staying. And while I don't exactly hate you, your majesty, I still have a strong dislike for you. A _very_ strong dislike."

Having made herself clear, Gwendolyn raised herself up to her full height, momentarily wincing as she felt the small gown tug at her in a way it shouldn't have, and then politely extended her hand towards the king. In the town, hardly anyone curtsied to each other. No, no one would bow or curtsey to their neighbor. Instead, they gave a polite handshake to their equal as a sign of camaraderie.

Slowly, Eadberht reached his own hand up to shake that of his daughter's. He still felt as though he was in a daze, and the girl's words were echoing loudly in his mind. It took Gwendolyn grasping his hand for him to realize how wrong this was.

And so, Eadberht broke his vow. He'd said that he would never again hold his daughter, not after the day her mother had died and he'd been left there with a newborn baby. But heck, stupid vows are meant to be broken. That is why Eadberht grasped Gwendolyn's hand just as firmly and pulled her into a large hug, something he'd been meaning to do for a very, very, very long time.

"Happy birthday, Gwendolyn."

Eadberht finally said, his voice muffled by the hug. In her shock, the girl didn't even try to struggle at the foreign contact. She simply allowed it, and then slowly and awkwardly, wrapped her arms around her father and hugged him back just as tight.

From her position at the door, peeking inside and listening in on the entire conversation, Cinderella felt her smile grow wide. Her heart warmed, her stomach fluttered with butterflies, and she felt a certain amount of pride.

For when it is all said and done, the story does not end. Characters beloved and cherished will go on to spur new adventures in others lives, and though these challenges may not always be welcome, the reward is always wonderfully amazing. And while the story of Cinderella and the Glass Slipper will always remain in our hearts, the story of The Forgotten Princess will forever resonate within our souls.

THE END


	22. Author's Note

**Author's Note: **

Since this story has now ended, let me give you guys some quick background.

Character development was for this story was really tough. Figuring out Gwendolyn took a few tries and many, many edits. At first she was this soft and sweet girl who was completely submissive. As I kept writing however, she became this person that was anything but; she was willful, intelligent, stubborn, hurt, angry, but most of all, a _teenager_.

As the characters became more precise, so did this story and its direction. Soon enough, I had it finished, and that is where we are now, my good friends.

I want to thank EVERYONE for their support of this story. I never imagined so many people might like it! To all my reviewers, you guys brightened up my day I think you all deserve one ENORMOUS cookie per review. I also want to thank the people that didn't review, but kept up with this story. You guys are also fantastic for sticking with me through all this craziness and cliffhangers.

Also, we reached 200 reviews guys! I can't believe it! And because you kept your end of the bargain, I'll keep mine and I'll write a sequel to this story. **If you have any ideas at all for what you'd like in the sequel, feel free to drop a review and tell me! **And while I can't promise any specifics as to when this sequel will happen, I would suggest checking back on this site every couple of weeks to see if it's up yet. Also, there's a few other stories on this site that are worth checking out, so don't be afraid to read those too!

Now we must part ways, but I'll see you guys soon. :)

_**Thank you all so much!**_


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